In the Hands of Young Chôjin
by Son Rhandi
Summary: Takes place after the Ultimate Muscle challenge but before the Chojin Crown. Someone is killing off all the Legends, and it's up to our favorite four (along with Checkmate) to solve the mystery. (COMPLETE)
1. ColdBlooded Killerz

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Ultimate Muscle/Kinnikuman II. 

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**Notes: **I really find Checkmate's Olde English speak annoying to write, but I think it'll lend itself better to the story if I retain that aspect. Let's see how this story goes. 

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In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 01: "Cold-Blooded Killerz"

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'Two kings: One dead and one deserted. 

I'm disgusted with your antics, bumbling brick colossus .

Hear the low rumble of the wrecking crew approaching.

Farewell, Sunshine, you crumbling brick colossus.'

The body of Sunshine lay there in a broken heap, its bits and pieces strewn across the floor. An arm here, a chunk of torso there… It looked as if he had been taken to by numerous sledgehammers, each swinging their weight with force enough to send his body crumbling to the floor. Three thugs were just enough. Even though he was old, there was still fight left in him, enough to take out one or two of these young punk wrestlers out, but not three at once, and certainly not by surprise.

First, a dog-faced Hoffman leapt the colossus's shoulders, executing a choke sleeper. A one Red Island Rhodes, that old red rooster with human face, leapt to it, too, wrapping his feathered body around Hoffman, their combined weight just enough to bring him to his knees. Lastly, a green fellow with mustache and a giant horn on the brow --Big Horn, they called him-- took haste to get behind the fallen Sunshine, keeping his body low to the ground. He bucked his head and send that horn slashing straight through the old man's legs, sending him toppling to the ground and causing more of him to crumble upon impact. The job wasn't done, though. Not by a long shot… The second that Sunshine tried to get up (though not a leg to stand on), they struck, all three, taking boot and claw all about the brick colossus. When was the last time, thought Sunshine, he felt pain like this? As he slipped into unconsciousness, his thoughts drifted to Rex King and Checkmate, his prized pupils. Rex was probably toiling away in the Chôjin graveyard, but where was Checkmate? Indeed, where **was** Checkmate..? Wherever he was, he wouldn't be back in time to save his life.

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"Huzzah! A putdown!"

"It's called a touchdown, and that was just beginner's luck."

"Face it, Terry," Gazelle Man cracked his neck. "The last five touchdowns have been more than just beginner's luck. A score of 35 to 7 says enough."

Checkmate twirled the pigskin on his finger and chuckled. "So, this is North American football, eh?"

"Right you are, m'friend," Terry replied, trotting to the end zone. "Okay, Mantaro. Come over here with us now."

The muscle prince groaned, not seeming to enjoy the game very much. "Again?! Why can't you guys decide what team you want me on?"

"I already explained it twice, 'Taro…" The Texan sighed. "You're playing steady because we have an odd number of people playing."

"Yes, we do have a number of odd people playing, but I still don't see why that means I can't stay on one team!"

"Will you just get over here so we can get on with the game?"

Mantaro just sulked and dragged himself to the Kid and the walrus once again. "Don't worry about it too much, bro." There was Seiuchin, always the one trying to keep everyone in good spirits. 

"Yeah, whatever… Let's just do this."

"Right. Let's Go. Set it up like we showed you, Check." Gazelle took a few steps back. The chess set wrestler nodded to his teammate and dropped to one knee, standing the football on its corner.

"Ready? And…" The blood-red buck got a running start, then lifted his best foot to the football, sending it skyward to the opposing team. 

BLAM!

Gazelle Man's ears twitched. What was that just now? It sounded like a gun going off… 

The ball careened straight to Mantaro, his fingers twitching in anticipation. Leaping to the sky so blue, he wrapped his hands around that old pigskin and ran like mad, Check and Gaz charging to meet him, Terry and Seiuchin on his defense. The muscle prince raised an eyebrow. The ball seemed… longer than normal. He hadn't remembered there being any sharp corners on it, either. In fact, part of it felt sort of like brick…

He stole a quick glace to the object tucked in his arm. Mantaro came to a screeching halt and dropped the football like a hot coal, flailing his arms about and shrieking in his usual cowardly fashion. The Texan and pinniped slowed their roll, chess and buck coming to a stop, too, upon seeing their friend's hysterics.

"Mantaro, what's wrong?" The walrus inquired. "Did you see a bug?"

The muscle prince pointed to the object of his panic. "Th-Th-Th-Th-There's a hand coming out of that ball!!"

The other wrestlers cast their sights to the grass where the dreaded football lay. Sure enough, a yellow hand--rather, more of a forearm-- looked to be sprouting from their play toy, a harpoon lodged between the knuckles. And on the forearm were two letters, spray-painted in red: B*A. 

"Does this look familiar to anyone besides me?" Seiuchin asked, his eyes fixated on the object. "It was a while ago, but I seem to remember seeing one of these before…"

"A spear fist……" Gazelle Man furrowed his brow. "Think back, everyone. After your match with Checkmate, Mantaro, wasn't Sunshine attacked by one of these?"

"What..?" The chess set wrestler inquired with a tone of disbelief.

"It's true," Mantaro briefed him. "You were unconscious at the time, Checkmate, but when you lost the match, the dMp attacked Sunshine by sending a giant stone spear fist like this one through his back as punishment for his… failure…"

Checkmate turned away from the others and studied the arm, scrutinizing with ice-blue eyes. Strange… For him to be unresponsive at the time they witnessed this object, the arm gnawed at the back of his mind. He had seen it before, many times before, he felt. Checkmate kneeled to the grass and ran his fingers along the yellow stump. His eyes widened and he shot back to his feet. "I must make haste. I'm off." He walked with swift pace to retrieve his shirt and cape.

"Checkmate? What's the matter?" Terry approached. Why're ya takin' off so soon?"

"I have to see Master Sunshine. I thank thee for thy gaiety, but my playtime is over. Good day."

"Check, wait!"

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"I thank thee for the care thou hast given me, but I must go from this place, and from ye, Master Sunshine. I'm having some doubts about this life and methinks it would be best to taketh leave for a time."

"Is that a fact..?"

"'Ties a far better thing I do now, milord. Prithee, have neither sorrow nor ire towards this." 

"Am I that easy to read?"

"As a child's book, m'lord. I shall return, though when is unbeknownst to me. Please thinketh well on me, when thou wilt."

"Well, fine. Maybe it'll be good for you. Don't be gone too long."

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He returned to the stadium area where he and Mantaro had fought, the place where he shed his former self. There had been a wormhole there at one point, they had entered this part of the world through it, one opened behind the building by Sunshine, himself. Check could open them, too, thank to the abilities inherited from his master. He raised his hands, and the black space opened. That was the easy part. The hard part was concentrating solely on the destination in mind, focusing all attention to the site. He leapt into the black hole, thinking only of Nazca in Peru's southern desert, his master's homeland. A pyramid, his stay on its steps, long abandoned by a dead civilization...

He landed gracefully, that Checkmate, touching down on the lush, green grass. But what was this..? He was plunked at the foothills..! Checkmate looked around, the structure nowhere in sight. But the area he was in was familiar. Perhaps he'd been too broad in his concentration, including the surrounding area as well as the pyramid. He'd be sure to be more specific next time. The chess set wrestler traversed the hill directly in front without too much effort, it being in his mind that the pyramid would be in his sights upon reaching its zenith. _Ah, there it… whaaat..?_

Check's eyes widened. From the temple's open top was a billowing black tower of smoke..! A fire? _Master Sunshine…_ The chess set wrestler transformed to knight mode, citing four legs were faster than two. The dark knight galloped down the hill and across the valley below. He ran as fast as his four legs could carry him, his hooves beating the tender grass, his checkered cape flowing behind. Through the bushes, through the tree, that young man pressed on, slowing his gait upon his arrival, but oh, more misfortune! The front entrance was blocked off, sealed by boulders..! He could feel the stress and anxiety mount, that Checkmate, but there wasn't a second for that. Knowing he didn't have the strength to move such a pile, he took flight up the step pyramid to the open roof. They kept a rope ladder there in case of emergencies such as this. 

It was still intact by the look of things. He only hoped the fires hadn't reached it, too. Reverting back to king mode, Checkmate made his way down the wavering rope ladder , the harsh smoke making his eyes water. "Master Sunshine!" He cried. No answer, though. The roar of the flames became louder as he moved closer to the floor, as did their blistering heat become noticeable, even spotting embers blowing past him. "Master Sunshine? ….koff, koff…" 

The smoke was getting thicker now. The chess set wrestler unclasped his cape and wrapped it 'round his mouth and nose. His eyes burned, brimming over with stinging tears. Where was Master Sunshine? He walked through the flaming corridor, calling out his mentor's name. "Sunshine! Sunshine! Where art th--"

He stumbled, landing on his elbow to the stone floor. When he turned on his side to see what he'd tripped over, he was taken aback. Checkmate crawled to the charred item, running his hand over it. He lowered his head, there was no denying it. That burnt block was Sunshine, blackened like the walls of the temple. From what he could tell, the remainder of the body was lying face down. Check turned his broad body over, its still-hot surface searing his hands. Of course, he didn't feel it. His mouth was wide open, Sunshine's, as if crying out in fear or surprise. Perhaps a bit of both…

Don't be gone too long.

Checkmate clenched his fists. If he had returned yesterday, could he have prevented this..? With a heavy heart, Check rose to his feet, the smoke becoming too thick for adequate breathing. He did not look back as he scaled the rope ladder, nor did he when he crossed the valley, the sounds of the building's collapse echoing across the landscape. 


	2. RedLetter Wrestlers

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In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 02: "Red-Letter Wrestlers"

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"B*A… B*A… What could that stand for?"

Back at IWF headquarters, Terry poked at the offender fist, studying each crook and crevasse like it was evidence at a crime scene. What was it, he wondered, that made Checkmate take off so suddenly? The spray-painted letters, what did they mean, and why was this fist aimed at them? He thought back to when this sort of thing had been sent to--or through, rather--Sunshine, a calling card of the dMp. But this… Wouldn't the dMp brandish their logo on it if it was indeed theirs?

Seiuchin and Gazelle Man, meanwhile, stood at the doorway watching their comrade's investigation from a respectable distance. "Terry's been going over that thing for almost two hours…" The walrus breathed. "What does he expect to find?"

"I don't know. It's strange..." Gazelle Man flicked a piece of lint from his ear. "When we were still playing, I heard a gun go off. A harpoon gun, to be specific."

"Harpoon..?" 

"Mm-hmm. It sounded far behind me. Since it hit the ball before its descent--roughly 30 feet in the air--it would have to have come from the rooftop of a nearby building."

"That's possible. We were playing on an open field and in full view."

"…All these weird incidents happening to us all the time…" The crimson stag put his hands behind his head, sighing. "I'm beginning to wish I'd chosen an uneventful life back home… Where's Mantaro?"

"Probably off eating or something. I'll go find him." Seiuchin started his way, but halted his tracks upon seeing a figure walk through the double doors of the IWF's entrance. His face faulted a bit in seeing it was Checkmate. Shrugging, the pinniped raised a hand in greeting to the approaching Check. His button eyes widened as he watched the chess set wrestler stagger, quick to bear his weight on the adjacent wall. 

"Gazelle! Terry!" Seiuchin called to his teammates. Checkmate's face was completely black, his arms and clothing mottled with soot. Even the ends of his cape were singed… The Texan and Tanzanian came running to meet with the walrus, taken aback at the sight of the blackened king.

"Checkmate!" Gazelle Man shouted. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"Sunshine is dead."

The others stood there gaping. Had they heard right? Sunshine was dead? They had no time to contemplate. Check dropped to his knees, falling forward. Terry caught him before the rest of him could touch the floor. "Check? Checkmate?!" No response. "He's fainted…" Terry slung the chess master's limp body over his shoulder. "Let's get him down to the medic, pronto."

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"Sir! We've carried out our mission without a hitch!"

"Sunshine was nothing!" Hoffman barked. "Why, we took him out in 10 minutes, tops!"

"Ten? I thought three of you could finish in less than half that time."

"Don't get us wrong, sir." Rhodes spoke, his feathers ruffled a bit. "Though an old man, he **was** a Legend. We had to make sure he was dead. We even torched the place to finish up."

The head man allowed himself a sidelong smile. "That's why you're the Animal All-Stars. I'm glad I could count on you all."

They all bowed to him. "Are there any further orders, sir?"

"Here." The boss figure tossed Hoffman a small stack of tickets. "I'd like for you all to introduce yourselves to those Muscle Leaguers of the Japan guard. Give them those, but don't fight them. Leave them to Team Aquatics."

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"Hmm. He's suffering from a bit of respiratory irritation. His case isn't too bad, but I'll keep him on some oxygen until his breathing becomes better. It seems to me he's more overwhelmed than anything. What happened?"

Terry shrugged. "We don't know. He just came in like that. Then he passed out." 

"Well, I'll keep an eye on him. I'll send a runner when he's okay to leave."

"Thank you , doctor."

Checkmate's return came sooner than expected, but none of them thought it would be under that sort of circumstance. What had happened to him, that chess set wrestler, to bring him back sooty and fainting? 

Terry crossed his arms and breathed a heavy sigh. "This has to do with that fist. I'm sure of it."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, now," Mantaro reminded them all, having joined them upon hearing the news. "This could all be some crazy coincidence… Right?"

"I doubt it. First, Check takes off as soon as he sees that spear fist and when he comes back, he looks like he just came out of a burning building and goes on to say that Sunshine's dead?" The Texan tugged at his suspenders, a thoughtful look spread 'cross his face. "This is hardly a coincidence, 'Taro."

"That arm wasn't like the last one we saw. It was yellow, like Sunshine's…." Seiuchin observed. "You don't think…..?"

"No way. Who would be so horrible?"

"Who else but the dMp?"

"I don't think so." Gazelle Man leaned against the wall. "Sunshine blew up their entire base, so I don't think the survivors would come after him. Wouldn't put it past 'em, though… We can ask Checkmate more about it when he gets out. Right now, we should probably tell Meat about all this."

Indeed. They'd have to do some waiting if they wanted some answers. Check sat their in the hospital bed, taking in rapid breaths of the 8th element, his grimy body dirtying the white sheets. He kept a pained look on his face throughout, though not due to physical hurt, for it was something he would never feel. Rather, this was a bout of emotional discomfort, to put it lightly. He couldn't get it out of his mind's eye, the 

petrified expression of his master, Sunshine, his body a sickeningly overdone red and charred black instead of a healthy goldenrod. He specifically told him not too be gone too long. Why did this..?

Checkmate buried his face in his hands. It no longer mattered to him that he'd been used for Sunshine's gain, nor did any of their past transgressions matter. The man who raised him was gone… 

And he was alone….

The chess set wrestler ripped the oxygen mask from his face and threw the sheets from his legs. He took a swift kick to the tank, putting a large dent in it and causing it to fall to the floor with a metallic 'clank'. He paced, that Checkmate, around the room, his face straight, his jaw tightening. Why hadn't he been there? Why couldn't he have prevented this? He took an angry fist to the wall, shouting out his rage as his knuckles crashed into the enclosure. None of this was happening. This was a bad dream, a nightmare of the Nightmares. He couldn't deny, however, the dirty soot on his skin, the harsh smoke in his lungs, and the horrible heat of the flames...

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"…And so, that's how it is."

Meat sighed. "If it's not one thing, it's another… So, then, is Checkmate all right?"

"Doc says he oughta be fine," replied Terry. "But what matters to me is the snake in the grass got Sunshine. Why him?"

Gazelle Man crossed his arms. "We don't know enough yet to determine a motive. It might just be some dMp retaliation. I don't think it's anything to worry about."

"But what if it's something more than that..?" Seiuchin speculated. "The only one who can tell us anything is Checkmate, but I doubt he knows any more than we do."

"That is correct, dear walrus."

They turned to the doorway, a clean Checkmate entering. "The fist, might I have it? It belonged… to my master…"

Meat's brow furrowed. "So then, he's dead after all…"

"Aye, dead as chivalry…." Checkmate looked to the ceiling, pensive. "Sunshine hath been felled. I saw the body with mine own eyes. Please, allow me to have the fist."

Terry nodded, retrieving Sunshine's broken arm with harpoon shoved straight through, per the chess master's request. "If ya don't mind me askin', Check," the Texan began while transferring the spear fist. "Just what on Earth happened?"

"I wish I could tell thee, Kid, all of ye," he said in voice deep and sorrowful. "But truth be told, I am at a loss, myself… The master's body was in pieces and burned like red brick, a great fire rageth upon my arrival, explaining my ragged appearance, and then… the temple collapsed shortly afterward." Checkmate closed his eyes. "…I could do nothing…" 

The others lowered their heads. The chess set wrestler turned his attentions to his late mentor's limb, molested by a blade mounted on a pole. Those two letters, red like the fire, were his only clue as to who could have committed such a heinous act. Two letters to tell who or what did Sunshine in…

"Please don't think ill of me, but methinks I need to take my leave. Good-bye, dear sirs…"

Checkmate, taking his master's arm and his sorrowful heart with him, exited via those glass double doors, ones which he'd recently been invited to pass through, and cast his sights to the blue sky above, his back to the building. It was strange, having all these feelings for this man who he held an air of indifference to his entire life. To him, Sunshine was just there. But now, his mind was clouded with regret, remorse. Sunshine watched him grow up, while he had watched the brick colossus grow old, a sort of bitter irony. He supposed he would have had to see his master die, anyway, but not like this…

The others--that is, Terry, Gazelle, and all the rest--watched as Check remained outside their glass doors, having pity for the ex-villain. "Poor kid…" Meat shook his head. "Even if he was a villain, Sunshine was all he had."

"I don't like this…" The Texan narrowed his eyes. "Somethin' real peculiar's floatin' 'round this whole thing an' I don't like the smell o--Check!"

Their eyes widened as they watched Checkmate fall forward. Terry wasn't sure, but it looked as if something had struck him from above. The chess set wrestler fell to the concrete, quick to pick himself back up and ready to fight. Standing before him was a green, zebra-striped giant with a humongous horn sprouting from his forehead. The rather unattractive fellow grinned aggressively.

"Bighorn!" Another yelled from the IWF's rooftop with a thick German accent. "We weren't supposed to attack!"

"Yeah, well that was for the match he lost. I had money riding on him!"

The dog-faced fellow and his rooster companion jumped down to meet Bighorn, the three of them stood side by side, glaring at the chess master with teeth bared and icy eyes. The four of the Muscle League and Meat rushed out of the building to be at the side of Checkmate, their attentions quickly being focused on the unfamiliar trio.

"Hello there, Muscle Leaguers," the rooster greeted them. "I'm Red Island Rhodes, and my associates here are Hoffman and Bighorn. How's life?"

"Don't play that with us," Gazelle Man hissed. "What business do you have here, coming from nowhere and attacking Checkmate?"

"Woah, now. Don't be like that. This moron here with the growth on his head's responsible for that."

"You're one to talk…" Bighorn shot back, gesturing toward the red crest on Rhode's cranium. The cock just shrugged. "So, I take it you got our boss's message? The dMp-inspired spear fist?"

The other wrestlers were taken aback. "dMp-inspired..? Then, you guys aren't with the dMp?"

"Hah! dMp?!" Hoffman quoted incredulously. "We would **never** belong to a organization so weak!"

"And anyway, we didn't come to chat. Here. Take these." Bighorn tossed a pack of tickets to anyone who could catch it, that happening to be Terry. "It's up to you as to whether you use them or not, but our boss's plans will be carried out, regardless."

They took off, hopping the rooftop to make their exit. "Wait!" Checkmate cried. "What be these plans of which thou speakest?! What meaning do these letters hold?!" If they heard him, they weren't stopping. Check threw out a disheartened moan. "Sir Kenyan, what is it that thou has received?"

"Huh? Oh… They're… plane tickets..?"

"Let me see!" Mantaro plucked the tickets from the Kid's hands. "Maybe it's an all expense paid trip to some tropical getaway!" He chuckled gleefully as he read the information on the ticket. Mantaro's jaw dropped to the ground. "**Australia?!?!**"

"You've got to be kidding…" Gazelle Man crossed his arms. "They don't **really** think we're gonna drop everything to play their little games, do they?"

"Then, please, good sirs," Checkmate approached. "Let me have one and I shall travel there myself."

The others turned to him in disbelief. "Check…" Seiuchin began. "All on your own?"

"What does it matter…? The only thing I have to lose now is my life."

The muscle prince leaned in towards Meat. "We can't just let him go all by himself, can we..?" He whispered. "It wouldn't be the thing to do…" The miniature manager whispered back. "I guess I can talk it over with Harabote… Er, Checkmate…" Meat addressed him. "Why don't you wait until we decide what we're going to do..? We'll help you, if we can."

Checkmate nodded. "Thank you. It would be most appreciated."

Something rotten was in the world of Chôjin wrestling. The chess set wrestler promised himself, and Sunshine (rest his soul), that he would uncover it, with or without assistance. 


	3. Way Under Down Under

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In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 03: "Way Under Down Under"

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After the long and arduous task of convincing Harabote that the situation was more than just some dMp retaliation, Meat and the New Generation saw their way to the nearest airport, taking nothing but the passports in their hands and the shirts on their backs (for those who wore shirts). Coach was a little something Gazelle thought beneath him, but the trip was free, so he couldn't complain too much, not when adoring fans were begging for his autograph. Terry, Seiuchin, and even Check had their share of crowds. Mantaro, however, could only remain on the outside looking in. 

To Sydney, Australia the six of them flew, a popular tourist city. They hit the terminal, those wrestling few, unsure of what the next move was to be. That old pinniped happen to see someone holding up a sign bearing the Hercules Factory emblem, and so directed them all that-a-way. The bearer of the sign was a dapper-looking chauffer, an older gent with a fair complexion and white toothbrush mustache. "You all are the Muscle League's wrestlers?" He inquired with a mild Aussie accent.

"Yeah, that's us," Terry spoke, eyeing the man suspiciously. 

"A limousine to Bondi Beach, courtesy of B and A. Follow me, please."

The mysterious letters again… Check took in a sharp breath through his nose. Was he getting closer to finding out just who it was…? They loaded into the vehicle, a freshly-waxed black limo. "Now **this** is more befitting of the Hercules Factory's Number One wrestler..!" The crimson buck smiled, reveling in the patented leather seating.

"You really need to find something else to boost your ego," Mantaro threw out. "That Number One thing is getting' kinda stale…" The muscle prince banged on the separator. "Hey, driver! Is there any food in this thing?"

"Knock it off," said Terry. "We can get something at the boardwalk."

Seiuchin could hardly contain himself. "Mmm… Think of all the fish we can catch..!" He wiped the drool from his muzzle.

"And all the things we can do!" Mantaro joined in. "Swimming, volleyball, water skiing…"

Gazelle Man stroked his chin, a sly smile creeping upon his face. "Bondi's pretty crowded this time of year. There'll be a lot of people on the beach, especially the ladies…" 

"Remember now, this isn't a vacation," Meat reminded them all. "We're here to check out this invitation. This is serious business, you guys. We gotta find out just what all this is about..!" The miniature manager turned to Checkmate, who had been silent the entire way through, lost in thought. "Hey, Check." He placed a small hand on his arm. The chess master jumped a bit, startled out of his somber trance. "I can't tell ya not to worry, but I **can** tell ya we're with ya all the way. We'll get to the bottom of this." 

The king cracked a forced smile, then returned to his former state, gaining only the concerned glances of his allies. It wasn't long before they came upon the world-renowned Bondi Beach, packed like a can of sardines. They were dropped off at the end of the parking lot and bid a g'day by the chauffer, watching as he sped off. "Y'know, I'll never get used to this whole 'driving on the left side of the road' thing…" the Texan shook his head. "So, what now? Are we just s'posed t' wait fer someone t' show?" 

"Hmm…" Mantaro lowered his head, feigning serious thought. "Ah, I know!" He snapped his fingers. "I think we should go down to the beach..!"

Meat furrowed his brow. "Are you saying that because you think we'll find something there, or do you just want to run off and have fun?"

"Oh, Meat, of course I think we'll find something there!"

"If it's girls or food, forget it."

"Well, what else would you go to the beach for? Babes in bikinis and shrimp on the barbie should be enough for anyone!"

Seiuchin parted them before the conversation could deepen. "Uh, hey, guys… Where's Checkmate?" The pinniped inquired.

The chess set wrestler was seen far ahead of them, already making it to the start of the boardwalk. "Good sirs…" He called over his shoulder. "If thou art going to be of some help to me, then I implore thee, be of some help!"

He turned his back on them, continuing onward. The others could only stand there, mildly shocked.

"Woah…" The pig-faced prince scratched the back of his head. "I think we just got told…"

"Can ya blame 'im? He's just edgy. Let's stop horsin' around an' come on."

The six of them made their way down the boardwalk and to the sandy beach, stepping over all sorts of bodies as they went. The others kept their sights straight ahead, ignoring the temptation to get a better look at all the curves. Mantaro, however, shamelessly ogled, and Meat dragged him by the arm in doing his best to keep him from running off.

"Say…" Gazelle Man's ears shifted forward. "Sounds like there's a lot of excitement up ahead. I hear a crowd cheering. Should we check it out?"

"Gazelle Man, in what direction doth the sound ariseth?"

The crimson buck shifted each ear in opposite directions. "Hmm… It's more northeast. Try going further down, then where the lifeguard tower is off in the distance, bear right after it's been passed."

And so, following the stag's directions, they headed in a straight line further through Bondi, past the lifeguard tower, hanging right. Not much later, after a few more minutes of walking, the others were within earshot. The excitement of an audience, a sound familiar to them all, growing all the louder as they progressed. Checkmate, being at the head of the line, was the first to see what all the hubbub was about.

On the northeast side of the beach, a throng of spectators were gathered around what appeared to be a wrestling ring. Checkmate dashed to it, the others following close behind. They merged in, unnoticed by the crowd. There, on the canvas stood two strapping fellows: One, a burly human with a shark's head mask, and the other, a lanky but lean and muscular, spike-haired otter sporting a sleek pair of sunglasses and an orange life jacket.

"C'mon, yeah? Who's next, eh?" The marine animal shouted into the megaphone. "Who 'ere's gonna take on me buddy, Shark Man? All y'gotta do is stay in the ring for five minutes! C'mon, blokes! Impress the li'l sheilas and try your best to survive! You can say with pride that you lasted against a Chôjin!"

"Shark Man..?" Seiuchin furrowed his furry brow.

Mantaro turned to the walrus. "You know him?"

"I know of him. He's one of Ireland's Chôjin."

"Ireland, huh? He doesn't look very tough…"

"No, he really isn't. He's an average Chôjin, but no ordinary human could ever hope to last against him. I wonder why he's here..?" 

"Hey." A man in the audience raised his hand. "I'll go."

"Awright! Step up, mate, and try your lu… Oh……"

The name 'Kevin Mask' was murmured throughout the crowd. He stepped to the ring and over the ropes, that Mask, his familiar pink t-shirt clinging to him in the Australian heat. "It's Kevin Mask! What's he doing here?"

The Kid took a finger to his chin. "Could he be involved?" He pondered.

"Uh… Well, great day in the mornin'! We got ourselves a real celebrity here! Okay! So it looks like ol' Shark Man'll be layin' into Kevin Ma… Oy!! Shark Man!! Where do you think you're runnin' off to?!"

The man stopped in his tracks, just steps away from the surf. "Uh…. I've been out of the water for a while, and my skin's getting pretty dry, so……" He dove into the ocean before any more explaining had to be done.

"Oy!! Oy!! Come back! We're supposed to be waiting for those Muscle League blokes!! Bloomin' idiot!" He threw down his megaphone, crushing it under his large, hairy foot.

"Did you hear that?" Meat exclaimed. "That must be the guy in leagues with those other three from before!"

Recomposing himself, he turned back to the crowd with a huge, toothy grin. "Uh, well, sheilas and blokes, we seems t' be short an opponent, so, ah….. Wait! Don't be leavin'! Oy!" The dissatisfied muttering of the spectators filled the air as they turned and headed back toward the main beach. "No!! Come back, yeah?! Oy… Apples, this ain't…"

"Well, if that's it," Kevin began. "I'll be leaving, too."

"Hey, Mask! What are you doing here?"

Kevin looked down from the ring. As the gathering of people thinned out, he caught sight of six conspicuous characters, none of which looking particularly happy to see him. "Hmph. Muscle Leaguers…"

The otter whipped his head around. Did he say 'Muscle Leaguers'? Sure enough. Anyone who was anyone could recognize the pig nose and swollen lips of the Kinniku family. _Oh, blimey, what to do, what to do_? _That no-good Shark Man! Cripes, we were s'posed to fight these guys, too… Any layin' into I get won't be half as bad as anything' I'll get from El Matador… Best to carry on, then._

"Unlike you chaps, I'm free to go where I want whenever I want. Right now, I feel like relaxing on Bondi Beach. Now, might I ask you the same?"

"We're here…" Terry pointed to the gangly otter. "…for him…"

"Hideous dog creature, your attention!!" Checkmate clenched his fist tightly. "Art thou of the same vile scum which hath slain my master? Loosen thy tongue!"

The otter turned his head to Checkmate. "…Oy! I'm not a dog!! I'm an otter!! The name's Wesley Blue, and we make up Team Aquatics, or the full name, Nautical Chôjin Wrestling Team, the Mighty Aquatics Rangers! Hah!" Blue stood on his left leg, drew his right up, stuck his right arm in the air, and held the left one across his chest. 

The others just stood there, taken aback by the sudden display. "……You said 'we'," Gazelle began. "But you only announced yourself…"

"Cripes, man! Lay off! Shark Man swam off just now and the Crustacean Kid, our other guy, was carried off by a giant albatross the other day, so I'm doin' me best right now! And anyway," Blue smoothed back his fur. "To answer the question, yes, but I think 'vile scum' is a bit much, yeah?" 

Kevin turned to the six in the sand. "What's all this, then?"

"Sunshine is dead," Meat briefed him. "That guy's with the crowd that killed him."

Kevin's yellow eyes widened. "The old Legend, Sunshine..?!" The diminutive fellow nodded in response. 

"Well, blokes, now that introductions are out…" the marine animal gave his back a good stretch. "Let's have a brawl, yeah?" They all gave him quizzical looks. "You wanna know more about this, right? The organization, Bloody Arms?"

Terry narrowed his eyes. "So, that's what the letters stand for….."

"Right you are, mate!" Blue walked over to the front of the ring, leaning his top half over the cordage. "So, if you want me to tell you anything, we gotta duke it out, y'see. So, who wants this one…?"

Checkmate began to step forward, but Terry's outstretched arm halted his advance. "Save yer strength fer right now, Check, though I don't think it'd take much to beat this polecat. Save it for his boss." The chess master complied, grudgingly.

"Well, I took the last water match with Crione Man back then, so I'm good." The muscle prince turned to his deer companion. "Gazelle?"

"Sea air does nothing for me. This job calls for Seiuchin, I think."

"Me?" The pinniped twiddled his thumbs. "Well, we could ask Kevin Mask if he…"

"Sorry, but this isn't my problem." The Mask man reappeared ringside, seated comfortably in a metal folding chair. 

"Don't all rush in now…" Meat muttered under his breath.

Checkmate had had enough. He may as well just left by himself, the useless buffoonery that these Muscle Leaguers brought was becoming insufferable. "Twits!" He pushed Terry the Kid aside and stepped to the ring, tossing his checkered cape to the beach. This would be the beginning of it, then. This ugly water dog would be the first on his list of paybacks. This feeling of loathing was familiar to him. It reminded his of the way he used to be, that Checkmate who so despised his opponents and fought in the ring with smoldering hate, a terrible feeling. Terrible like the tortured expression on his Sunshine's face…

"My body doth remember the heat of the flames, knave, I perspire," he began in a quiet, angry tone. "Thou and thy associates hath left me with nothing, not a home to go to nor a person to wait there for me. Thou shalt be the first to feel the wrath of the Nightmares!"


	4. Amarillo or Bust!

****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 04: "Amarillo or Bust!"

_____________________________________

The sky above became overcast, a gloomy off-white, as if to set the mood of the match. A wind had picked up, carrying the stink of wet soil from miles back and merging with the pungent odor of marine life in the air. The bystanders from earlier had left, leaving only two to tango and six to watch at that wrestling ring by the crags of the shore. They circled each other, the coarse-haired water rodent and the chess set wrestler, sizing one another up. Checkmate's strides were long and fluid, his mouth a rigid, straight line. He showed no emotion in his crystal blue eyes as he set his sight upon the water-treading weasel, whose eyes, in contrast, were shimmering with anticipation, but hidden behind a pair of shades, they would never be seen. Blue bore a toothy grin, taunting Check to come forth, his long, tapering tail flicking with excitement. 

He charged, that otter, arms outstretched for a grapple, his bare feet pounding the canvas. Checkmate stood there, motionless, unaffected by the assault. When the distance was right, the chess master threw out his right fist. In a blur, the marine creature ducked his heavy fist and planted himself on all fours, then quickly turned his body to the right and wrapped his tail around Checkmate's leg, pulling him forward and causing the man to land on his back. Blue chortled, then proceeded to twist Check's right foot in a heel lock.

This only came across as mildly annoying to the chess set wrestler. He lifted the leg under assault and Blue along with it in relative ease, then shot that same leg forward, sending his opponent flying into the ropes opposite them. Leaping to his feet, Checkmate rushed to him as he rebounded off the cordage, his left arm held out from the side. Blue gave a choked little cry as the chess master clocked him under the neck with the outstretched arm, executing a clothesline.

The Muscle Leaguers cheered him on, throwing out things like 'Keep it going, Checkmate!' or 'That's the way, Check!' Blue hit the white canvas, falling flat on his back. Checkmate followed up by taking it to his side of the ring ropes, hopping atop them then jumping to do a back flip. He thrust his chest out as he descended over the downed otter, preparing for a body press. Well, that old weasel wouldn't have that. Getting to his feet, he took off, straight up like a rocket, plowing his head into Check's abdomen and causing his body to ascend from the impact. Blue landed on the mat and jumped again, wrapping his hairy hands around the chess set wrestler's neck and veered toward an adjacent turnbuckle.

"Clamshell Busting!!"

Blue launched Checkmate with all his strength to the corner post, his helmeted head crashing into it and his body ricocheting outside of the ring. The Muscle Leaguers could only look on in shock. Kevin Mask sat by himself, unmoved by the action. "Whaddya think o' that, eh? Pretty impressive, yeah? I really laid into 'im, I did!" He moved to the area where Checkmate had fallen and leaned over the ropes to locate the body. 

"You shouldn't have bothered walking over there," Kevin Mask uttered. Before the otter had time to process his comment, Checkmate emerged at his left side and plowed his foot into his foe's face. He tumbled across the canvas, that water weasel, catching his body and coming to rest at a sitting position.

"What…? What the hell is this..?!" Blue cursed, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. "Li'l lizard! You shoulda been knocked out for a good ten minutes 'r so!"

"Belay thy tongue, roguish one!" Check pressed the button on his castle shoulder piece, morphing into the Rook form. The utter defeat of this man in front of him was all that occupied his mind. This association, Bloody Arms, one whose members declare the dMp weak and unfit, one who dare take the only person from him left in his life… He couldn't forgive them, and he vowed tear through each one until he avenged the only family he'd ever known. Not letting him have the chance to return to his feet, Checkmate charged ahead, drop kicking the fiend in the face and sending him to be tangled in the ring ropes. Hardly done, the rook sent his stone-cold fists barreling into Blue's breadbasket, causing the recipient to hack up blood repeatedly.

"I give…" Choked the otter, the bitter red saltiness on his gums. "I… I GIVE!!"

Success. Checkmate backed off and pressed the button on his king's head shoulder piece, reverting back to standard form. The Muscle Leaguers congratulated him, but he didn't care about their accolades. The new task at hand was far more rewarding than any words of praise they could muster. "Now, knavish fellow…" The king pulled him forward by his lifejacket's collar. "Explain to me why Sunshine was slain."

"Orders are orders, mate."

"Whose orders?!"

"Me boss's, o' course."

The chess set wrestler slammed his fist square between Blue's eyes, shattering his shades and crushing the metal and plastic thereof. "It be not wise to jest with me, unsightly water dog!!" Checkmate roared, glaring into the man's naked eyes. "Now tell me what you know of this!!" 

"Awright, awright…… Me boss, El Matador, he order us t' fight with you guys…"

"For what reason?"

"We were… supposed to be buying time for the other team on assignment."

"Buying time…?"

The marine creature nodded, then turned to Terry. "Terry the Kid," he addressed the Texan. "When's the last time you checked with your old man, eh?"

The Kid seemed confused by his inquiry. "Why does that matter to you, ya waterlogged polecat? What's my daddy have anything t' do with this?"

The others devoted some thought to it, as did Checkmate. "…Oedipus!!" He sent his knuckles flying into that creature's muzzle once again, this time rendering him unconscious. Checkmate leapt from the ring and gathered his cape in one fell swoop. "Everyone, we must make haste!" He shouted, preparing to open another wormhole.

"Checkmate, what's wrong?" Inquired Meat.

"These Bloody Arms people, assassins, they be! Terryman hath been chosen as the next target!"

A feeling of shock spread throughout those of the Muscle League. Terry clenched his teeth, his fists quivering. His father was going to be killed and he was hours and miles too far to do anything about it..! "This is too cruel..!" He growled, that Texan. "There's no way we can get there in time!"

"We can make it, sir." The king stuck his arms out in front of him, and a large, black portal opened before him. "This be a wormhole. We can arrive there in minutes traveling through this. Sir Kenyan," he turned to Terry. "This information is vital is thou wisheth to save thy father, so lend an ear, please."

The Kid nodded and Check proceeded. "Even with what thou doth know now, only thinketh of the location thou want to go, and not of the person whom thou want to see. Concentrate on nothing else, dost thou understand?"

"Yeah, I gotcha…" _Just can't think about Daddy… _ He told himself._ Gotta try if I wanna save 'im. _

"Everyone, thou must form a chain so that we all may arrive together! Latch wrists and make haste!"

And so, each man took a wrist, Meat to Mantaro's, Mantaro's to Seiuchin's, Seiuchin's to Gazelle's, Gazelle's to Check's, and Check's to Terry's. The muscle prince's coach looked back, noticing Kevin Mask was still present. "Are you coming, Kevin Mask?"

The Englishman crossed his arms. "This doesn't concern me," he replied coolly.

"Listen up, Mask, these guys are targeting Legends. First it was Sunshine, and now Terryman's next on the list, and there's no guarantee that they won't come after your old man, too..!"

That seemed to strike a chord with the young man. He rushed over there and grabbed Meat's child-sized arm. "I'm coming with you..! If anyone's going to kill my father, it's going to be me!" 

__________________________________________

****

'No more buffalo where you come from. 

Your ancestors shot them dead, ignorant ranch hands.

Do you still want a home where these creatures roam?

Cowboy, your wish is my command.'

The pressure of the vacuum was intense, he remembered thinking before catching himself. He was supposed to concentrate on the Terry Ranch and nothing else. The only thing that mattered at that moment was getting back to Amarillo, Texas in his United States in one piece. He had the weight of all the others behind them, including the late addition, Kevin Mask, who swore he'd be the one to take his father's life. It was only the wind whipping his hair around that indicated they were moving. It would be almost effortless to lose oneself in the pitch blackness, a sickening darkness. He prayed they'd arrive soon, waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel or funnel or whatever. 

Up ahead, a little white sparkle, growing larger as they approached closer. "It be up ahead, the exit point," Checkmate announced. "These vacuums empty in the sky, so best prepare to make a landing."

A black hole parted the early morning Texas sky, dumping out the seven men, six of which making a graceful landing. Mantaro stood and dusted off his backside, attempting to regain some dignity. "Time slips away. Terry, which way to your home?"

The Kid looked around. Ah, the familiar fork-shaped cacti were right there, so home would be… "Over yonde--What the…?" The ranch that should have been close by was on the horizon. "Dang! We're so far off! Why, it'll take us a good fifteen minutes to get there runnin' top speed!"

"Fret not." Checkmate changed to his Knight form and lowered his front half . "I can take Kid and another person," He said, gesturing to his back. "Who will accompany us?"

"I'll go," Seiuchin raised his hand. "There's no point in me even trying to run in this heat."

"Just as well," Gazelle Man breathed, giving his back and legs a good stretch. "I can keep up with the zebras back home, so this shouldn't be anything. Gazelles tend to be fast like that. They have to be."

Meat scrambled atop the prince of wrestling's shoulders. "You're going, too, Mantaro."

"As if I had a choice… And besides, as long as those guys are around, my dad's in danger, too..!" He ended on a strangely brave note.

"I'll take my time in getting there," said Kevin Mask, slinging his trench coat over his shoulder. "This only becomes my problem if my father becomes involved."

"Whatever…" Whether Kevin Mask felt like helping or not was no concern of his. The only thing on Kid's mind was saving his father's life. No reins to grip, Terry wrapped his arms around Checkmate's torso. "Let's ride!" 

And the race was on…


	5. The Chojin Cavalry

****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 05: "The Chôjin Cavalry"

___________________________________________________

The horses were in distress nearby, expressing their trepidation with high-pitched whinnies and riley snorts. That horse-- No, that knight, Checkmate's hooves trampled the red soil, bearing the weights of Terry the Kid and Seiuchin on his back. Gazelle Man vaulted beside them, taking long, bounding strides to guide his way, rousing up dust each time his foot smacked the dirt. Kinniku Mantaro ran as fast as humanly possible with Meat in tow, not having the privileges that came with possessing four legs or antelope genetics, and Kevin remained far behind the whole of them, seemingly more interested in looking about the landscape of the American wasteland rather than putting some pep in his step to lend a helping hand.

"We're comin' up on it now, Check," said Terry, keeping tight to his grip. "Stick at this pace an' we'll be there in a few minutes."

Checkmate gave out a positive snort, keeping at his thunderous pace. The closest coming up to them was the pen and stalls for the Terry Family horses. In the outdoor pen was a single, black filly--a favorite of the family--running along the fenced area and repeatedly rearing up in fright, her distressed neighs filling the air. As they made headway in their approach, Terry noticed a figure hopping the fence, and Gazelle's ears shifted toward the pen. _The scraping of metal… A blade being unsheathed..? _Terry kept his eyes on the lone equine, wondering what it was that caused her to act so wildly. 

The shadowy figure ran before the horse, moving in a blur, then passed and raced to the stalls. Then came the silence. He got one final look at the filly as she was before her head tumbled off and over the wooden fence, leaving the body standing. "Beauty!!" Terry gasped in horror.

"Keep going!" Gazelle Man shouted as he skidded to change course. "I'll take care of it!" That crimson buck crossed the dark knight's path, springing to the horses' keep. Deciding it best to join him, Seiuchin threw himself from Checkmate's back, lending his body to a hard fall on the dusty ground.

"Seiu!"

"Go on! Your dad needs you!" The grizzled pinniped waved as Terry, looking back at him apprehensively, rode off to the homestead. Dusting off his backside, the walrus hurried to join Gazelle, already entering the stalls, leaving Mantaro and Meat to wonder what had just transpired. 

Gazelle cautiously entered the holding pen. Two other horses stood quietly in their individual stalls, a white stallion and his chocolate companion. Keeping his wits about him, the buck ventured in further, approaching the white horse. It just looked back at him with its calm, dark eyes, leaning its head into Gazelle Man's touch. "What's this, then?" The crimson stag asked, scratching the horse behind its right ear. "A zebra without its stripes?"

He barely dodged the incoming blade, that Gazelle, ducking as soon as he heard that familiar metallic sound scraping against casing. His animal friend wasn't so lucky, getting a deep slice across its muzzle in Gazelle Man's place. Kneeling to the ground, he could barely concentrate in midst of the stallion's anguished cries. The assailant, a strange-looking fellow who appeared to be no more than a pair of scissors with box cutters for arms and two stocky legs to hold his elongated torso, stood before him, his arms--well, blades-- held up to his chest. 

Retracting the weapons into the cutters' casings, he opted for switching to fists. Pushing off, he rushed to Gazelle with a straight, the buck barely missing the fist by a hairsbreadth. That last one unsuccessful, the scissors man sent a jab flying toward the antelope's face. Gazelle ducked under the large, pink pile of knuckles and countered with a hard straight to his opponent's abdomen. Angered that he was able to land a hit, the scissors man lifted his leg to deliver a sharp kick, but was knocked off his feet by a sweeping kick from the other wrestler. The opportunity having arisen, Gazelle Man hopped then leapt from a stall gate and performed a body press, the weight of his hard-wrought body slamming atop scissors' abdomen. The blade fellow twitched a bit, though not looking to be in a good enough form to try anything else.

The blood-red buck put on his usual smug face. Having given his foe what for, Gazelle stood over him, feeling quite elated. He wondered, momentarily, if the outcome would have been different had they been in the ring and held a captive audience, the history of his performance on the canvas poking at the back of his head. He dismissed the notion, letting himself enjoy the victory of the here and now.

"Gazelle Man!" Seiuchin came huffing and puffing into the stable, taking a moment to catch his breath. "What was… (puff)… that that… (wheeze) killed… the horse..?"

"This guy here," he replied, gesturing to scissors-for-a-head on the floor behind him. "He hurt this white one here, too. Poor guy…" Gazelle went back over to the stallion, seeming to be calm despite the dripping wound from its muzzle. "Hmm… Seiuchin, let me use your bandana."

"Hm? Alright…" He handed the cloth to his teammate. The crimson stag dipped the bandana into the horse's water trough, "It should be fine like this." and rung out the excess. He put a gentle hand to the left side of his half-dressed zebra's head and brought the moistened cloth to his wound with the other. The horse jerked back a bit, beginning to snort and give out other noises, but Gazelle simply shushed him and tried again, this time successful in his attempt. He ran his free hand down the stallion's neck, petting him as he dabbed gently at the steadily bleeding gash and allowing himself to smile in the peace of the moment. Seiuchin stood back, a smile gracing his face, as well, never having realized Gazelle Man had such a soft spot for animals. 

****

_Plip._

The walrus crinkled his muzzle, a wet something dripped onto his nose.

Plip.

Again..! It didn't look as though it rained much in this area, so it couldn't have been a leaky roof. As he shifted his head upward, the liquid dripped on him once more, this time touching his lips.

__

_Saltwater..?_ He looked up to the blackness of the roof, squinting to see what it was that was leaking or whatever. The sun had barely risen, but there was enough light to make out something… Seiuchin saw the whites of his eyes and gasped. The water dripping from above was sweat, and it was coming from someone or something positioned in the lattices..! "Gaz--"

Before he could even finish his warning, the one he saw and another who had escaped his sights descended, both clad in black outfits reminiscent of the traditional ninja of ancient Japan. One dropped behind the walrus, one in front, blocking him off from Gazelle Man, whose attentions shifted as soon as his ears picked up their feet touching the ground.

________________________________________

Terry barreled through the front door, not even waiting for Checkmate to again become the king before searching for his father. "Daddy?!" He screamed, dashing from the living room to the kitchen and back again. The house looked undisturbed, as far as he could tell, but that didn't mean a thing. He took flight up the stairs, crying out for his father as he made his way down the hall. 

"Terry, slow thy roll!" Checkmate called after him, fearing that with all the commotion, he may have alerted the enemy to their presence. He'd heard the sound of ascending footsteps and figuring the Kid had went upstairs, Check rushed to join him. Down the hall, he spied an open door, and putting 2 and 2 together, entered.

He saw the young Texan breathing heavily, standing over the foot of a king-sized bed. Poised in front of the bedroom window, his body was cloaked in the early morning light, revealing a relieved smile on his reddened face. His parents, were nestled under the covers, slumbering contently and looking as if they had been doing so undisturbed. "Thank God…" The Kid breathed. "Oh, thank God…"

Checkmate let out a sigh of relief. He leaned against the doorway and took on Terry's thankful expression, happy that Kid's story could have a happy... Someone in the window..!

"KID!!"

Glass shattered and shot every which way, some catching Terry in the back, some scattering atop his parents' bed. Two men--one with a giant horn and one with a dog's face, two of the three from before--crashed into the bedroom, Bighorn tackling the young Texan to the bed and Hoffman proceeding to rip the sheets off Terryman and wife Natsuko in tow.

Not one to stand by idly, Checkmate leapt across the bed to fell Hoffman with a flying kick to the face. The dog-faced foe shook his head, a little disoriented, then tried to come at the chess set wrestler, locking his arms around his waist for a suplex. "Chess piece change! Rook!" In an echo of his match with Mantaro all that time ago, Checkmate split his body into thirds, "Body Separate!" then allowed his torso to come apart from the rest of him, leaving Hoffman pinned to the floor to deal with his weight.

One down, one to go. Checkmate's lower half rushed to Bighorn, who had Terry in a painful submission hold. His disembodied legs ran up the green one's back, then did an aerial back flip and brought his stone knees down, smashing into Bighorn's head. The nasty, mustached fellow dropped like a brick, unconscious. Terry rolled Bighorn's weight from off his body, a little sore but otherwise fine. 

"Hey, Check," Kid addressed his ally while picking up the green one by his horn. "Y'all can let that one up now."

The brick torso segment levitated and rejoined with its owner. Hoffman just lay there, sucking in air like a dying fish. Terry dragged Bighorn's limp body a little ways then tossed it atop ol' dog-face. "Take your friend and go," he said without any inkling of sympathy. Hoffman growled, gathering his teammate up in his arms and heading for the broken window.

"_Dunkoff. _This is far from over."

"You bet it ain't. Now, git." 

Hoffman glared at Terry over his shoulder, then hocked up a nice one, spitting on the glass-strewn floor. With a final indignant sniff, he leapt out the window with Bighorn in tow. Terry and Checkmate came to the open hole in the room, watching the Bloody Arms boys make their retreat, noting that dog-face was headed toward the stalls. Without a second thought, Checkmate exited the same way, his feet planting him firmly in the dry, red soil. "Terry! I shall take it from here!" He called up to the young Texan, then took haste to make sure that Hoffman didn't try anything else.

The Kid released an exhausted sigh and plopped himself at the foot of his parents' bed. His ears picked up a little grumble from behind him. He turned and saw his father sitting up. He stretched and rubbed his eyes a bit from the sunlight penetrating his eyelids, that Terryman. "Daddy…" The young man smiled.

"Mmrrm… Huh..? What're…" He paused to yawn. "…you doin' here, boy..? I done told you to… knock first… b'fore comin' in……" Terryman plopped back down on his pillow, slipping back into slumber and snoring softly. The younger Terry just chuckled and ruffled his father's thinning hair, content in knowing he'd survive this day, at least.


	6. A Herculean Task

  
   
****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 06: "A Herculean Task"

* * *

Mantaro had arrived on the scene to aid the animal combination, keeping a brave front despite the urine spraying from his pants, around the time Hoffman (with Bighorn in tow) called the ninjas and their scissor-headed companion to retreat. It was a welcome thing for all three of them, the Muscle Leaguers, the sudden withdrawal of those Bloody Arms wrestlers. Terry the Kid explained the situation to his parents during that frame of time, about Sunshine and Checkmate and the damnable organization, Bloody Arms…

Checkmate watched them all run off into the sunrise, breathing a relieved sigh once they disappeared over the horizon. He turned to enter the stables, sighting Mantaro and Seiuchin. The two were huddled around Gazelle Man, who was clutching his left shoulder, blood trickling down his arm. "Sir Gazelle, what is thy status?"

The three looked up. "Checkmate…" Mantaro muttered.

"It's just a scratch. I'm fine." The blood-red buck replied, downplaying his injury. "What about Terryman? Is he…?"

The chess set wrestler gave his first genuine smile in nearly three days. "He lives."

It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off their shoulders. The three Muscle Leaguers, relieved at the outcome, breathed deeply, their faces shining with smiles. "We should seek care for the gazelle," said the chessmaster, turning to exit. "I am certain Sir Kenyan will be able to provide the proper medical care. Let us go to the house."

______________________________________  
  


"Well, dang… Looks t' me as if this is a right nice fix y'all are in. Yup, a right nice fix, indeed…"

"Yeah… I just wish I knew why they're doin' all this. We got no clues to that or to what their next move might be…"

"Well, no use frettin' over it if there ain't a thing that can be done. Let's get some breakfast an' then we'll start cleanin' up."

A now wide-awake Terryman stood out of bed and greeted the day with a yawn and a stretch. "Hey, Natsuko," the old bronco addressed his wife. "How's about rustlin' up some chow fer these younguns?"

"Hold yer horses. I'll get to that, but first thing's first: I gots t' vacuum up all this broken glass. And don't y'all go walkin' 'round here without shoes on, Terry. Last thing y' need is glass in yer foot."

"Well, alright. Kid, why don't you help yer Ma an' I'll feed the troops?"

A smile and a nod. "Okay, daddy. No problemo."

And so, Kid set about assisting his mother in clean-up detail while Terryman descended to the first level of the house to provide them all sustenance. As he came down the stairs, he spied Checkmate and the rest entering the house. "Howdy, y'all," the old wrestling horse greeted them.

"Terryman!" Meat came running up to him.

"Well, burn mah britches, if it ain't ol' Alexandria Meat, himself..!" Terryman knelt down to give the little man a hug.

"Say, Terry, you think you could help out Gazelle Man there? He's been injured."

The old man looked up at the crimson stag, still keeping pressure on his shoulder, and walked over to him. "Lift up yer hand fer a second, son. …Mm-hmm…… Yeah, we can fix that right up." He led Gazelle to the stairs. "Second door on the left is the bathroom. There's a first-aid kit behind the mirror. Get that and go take care of yourself, y' hear?"

Gazelle Man bowed his head in gratitude and proceeded upward. "So…" The aged man turned to the others. "Anyone fer some breakfast?"

"Breakfast?! Like, yeah!! Just point the way!" Terryman pointed to the doorway to his right, and Mantaro skipped merrily into the kitchen to have himself a seat. The old bronco had to laugh. "The apple sure don't fall far from the tree, do it?"

Seiuchin chuckled along with him. "That's our Mantaro. He won't change."

"Right thou art," Checkmate joined in.

"Heeeeeeeey!!" The muscle prince called from the kitchen, creating a din that sounded of silverware being banged against the table. "Mister Terryman, where's the fooooood?"

"Hold yer horses, I'm comin'! Y'all want somethin', too? Come on with me."

The old wrestling horse entered the cooking arena, Check and Seiuchin tailing him. "Finally!" Mantaro brayed, perched at the head of the table and clutching fork and knife as if his life depended on it. "Let's eat!"

Terryman leaned on the hardwood table. "What's yer pleasure?"

"Cow and rice is nice," he grinned eagerly.

"Hmmm….. How's about some steak an' eggs?"

The muscle prince lowered his shoulders in disappointment. "Oh, okay… but only if you put it all in a bowl."

"It's a done deal, partner." They shook hands to seal the meal pact. "Hey," Terryman called over to the other two. "Steak an' eggs all right with you fellers?"

"Um…" The walrus raised his hand. "Do you have any fish?"

Terryman blinked, then rummaged through the freezer in search of the pinniped's request. "Um… We got fish sticks…"

"That'll do..!" The walrus took a seat to the right of Mantaro. "Whatever thou makest, noble Terryman, is fine with me." Checkmate joined the others at the table.

"Well, that's a relief. I don't suppose y'all can speak for yer antelope friend on this?"

"Oh, Gazelle doesn't eat meat," Mantaro briefed him. "You might wanna set him up with some oatmeal or something. He eats a lot of that."

"Shucks, I wasn't countin' on all these special requests… I tell you boys what: Why don't y'all gimme a hand with the cooking? I still gots Terry an' the missus t' cook fer, not t' mention myself. That okay?"

Checkmate and Seiuchin didn't seem to have a problem with that. The pinniped set about preparing his breakfast of processed fish batons while his chess set companion fielded the task of making hot cereal for his vegetarian friend. The muscle prince pouted for a bit, then sought some bread for toast.

____________________________

A sizzle and a pop and breakfast was good and ready. Kevin Mask had just entered from the morning heat, the smells of a good meal filling his helmet. He followed his nose to the kitchen where the area was alive with the hustle, bustle, and muscle of meal time camaraderie. A one chef Terryman sized up the portions of beef slab and scrambled eggs equally for all who would have some, and the gracious lady of the house served up plates, knowing for the first time the feeling of a house full of smiles and laughter.

"Here you go, sugar." Mrs. Natsuko served Gazelle Man his bowl of boiled oats.

"Thank you, ma'am. It smells delicious."

"Junior done tol' me how you pr'tected our horses. A shame they got ol' Beauty, but thankee fer lookin' after the others." She gave him a peck on the cheek and the buck turned a deeper shade of red. The other wrestlers just chuckled, throwing out comments on Gazelle having a thing for older women and how well they suited him.

"Breakfast? I'll have egg on toast, please." Kevin took a seat beside Checkmate.

Terry scoffed. "Only those who earned a meal get one…"

"Now, Kid. Don't be inhospitable-like… Y'all know we can't eat in front o' others without offerin' them some. Now, youngun…" Terryman walked over to Kevin, hovering a plate of his food of choice over his head. "In return for this here meal, yer gonna hafta help me with an outdoor task 'r two. That sound fair?"

Kevin shrugged. "Whatever…."

____________________________

"So, how did it go?"

"…We failed to exterminate Terryman, sir. The Muscle League managed to arrive before us."

"Hmm……" Matador rose from his throne, stroking his chin and pacing back and forth. "Actually, that may be for the best for right now. With the threat that something may be lurking out there over their heads, they'll be unnerved for the rest of the day. Besides, we can kill Terryman anytime."

"Sir," Hoffman began. "When shall we give Rhodes the OK to return?"

"When it's time, I'll send for him myself. What time was it when you all were there?"

"The sun was still low, sir. I'd say barely beyond sunrise."

"Alright, then," Matador rose from his seat. "We'll initiate the rest of the plan in 17 hours. Notify all available teams to coordinate then."

"Of course, sir."

"Heh heh heh… It'll be lovely." He stroked his chin, a devious smile spreading across his face. "We're going to have party. A glorious party in space… 

___________________________

The threat of Bloody Arms eased for the most part, house work began, as per agreement betwixt the wrestlers and the House of Terryman. Gazelle, being a man of cleanliness, offered assistance to the missus in kitchen detail, earning him more taunts from the other young men. The Terry men, meanwhile, set to the desert to dig their deceased a grave, Kevin Mask in tow. The two young ones dug to Terryman's melancholy strumming, his beautifully crafted guitar with newly changed strings vibrating to a tune in C, the Kid throwing in an occasional yodel. 

"O bury me not on the lone prairie… (Yo-del-ay-ee-oo…)

Where the wild coyotes will howl on me… (Yo-del-ay-ee-oo…)"

Kevin Mask shook his head and continued to stick his shovel in the dirt, thinking this sort of thing was a bit too American for his tastes. They put the horse to rest in the hole with 4-foot depth, all three of them working to place the carcass in its grave. Covering the burial place over with the red dirt dug from it, they took the short walk back to the ranch, spying the missus playing foreman to Mantaro and Seiuchin's window pane installment.

"Ease up, now… Y'almost got it…Easy does it…"

"All done!"

"It's in!"

"Woo! Great job, partners!" She applauded them. 

Terryman came up and tipped his hat to her. "Back already and done, too? Didn't take ya long…"

"Not atall, thanks to those fellers up thar." She looked back up to then, waving and giving them a grateful smile. The boys just waved back, returning the favor with toothy grins and rosy cheeks.

"Che. It sure is somethin' t' be young, ain't it?" He plunked his digits on the guitar's fingerboard. "Anyway, the horses need tendin' to. I'll get to it."

"Don't worry 'bout that none. I gots Meat, Zelly, and that Checkmate feller takin' care o' that."

"Zelly..? Oh, that Gazelle boy…" Terryman chuckled. "It sure is somethin' t' be a woman, ain't it?"

Natsuko just laughed. "Kid, if y'all don't mind, help th' others out with cleanin' the stables, would ya?"

"Sure thing, Ma." He bent over to give her a son's kiss on the cheek and headed to the horses' hold.

Terryman turned to Kevin. "And what about you?"

"I've done my work. I repaid you for that meal."

Terryman's face faulted. "Actually," he wrapped his arm around Kevin's shoulder. "I need y'all to come with me fer a minute."

The Mask man sighed as the bronco led him around back, a wonderful, rustic porch with swinging bench upon them. "Sit a spell." The old man plopped on the bench, patting the space beside him before strumming a broken chord. Kevin sat next to him, giving a familiar sigh.

"I knew you were Robin Mask's little boy right off the bat," Terryman began, playing a lazy country tune. "What's yer name?"

"That's none of your business," he replied coolly.

"Well, alright, but you know I can ask any one of the others and get the same info."

Kevin scoffed. "So ask them."

The old bronco paused his playing, mildly shocked at his rudeness. "Hoo, yer a regular pistol," he yipped, changing keys and starting again. "But I guess youth and aggressiveness go hand in hand. Kid's a little like that, too. Getting' better, though…"

"What do you want..?" The Englishman inquired, becoming a little annoyed. "I thought you needed help…"

"I reckon **you're** the one that needs help," Terry responded matter-of-factly. "Y'all can't go on through life with a chip on yer shoulder."

"What do you mean?"

"Kid used to be a lot like you. Had more heat on 'im than stank on a polecat. That boy… I really didn't know what was goin' on in his head--Oh. Pardon me a sec." The old man timed out to tighten a string. He strummed all six, an in-tune harmony. "Perfect…" He smiled. "Anyhow, you should try to get along with them best as possible fer now. The way things are now, yer pappy may well be a target, too. How's he doin', by the way?"

"You're asking the wrong person. I haven't seen him in 3 years."

"That's too bad. He's the only daddy you've got, y'know. It's better to have things go smooth as possible with family, so ya don't have no regrets."

"Regrets?!" Kevin shot up. "A childhood filled with nothing but training and studying day in, day out..?! The only things I regret are having to have gone through that all my life and not leaving sooner! That Robin Mask, he was responsible for my misery." He narrowed his yellow eyes. "…I hate him……"

"Hm. So that's it," breathed the bronco, wearing an expression that seemed to say 'I thought so'. "Y'all don't care if he's killed, then?"

"Give me some credit, Yank…"

"Sorry, partner. I guess you comin' along with all the others proves that otherwise."

The conversation drifted, the awkwardness reflected in Terryman's playing, his chords falling out of rhythm with the rest of the song. "Robin…" He continued again. "If there was one thing he hated, it was anyone who hated him. But… I don't think he'd hate you, his only son. Frankly, I don't see how any father could. I reckon y'oughta get what the shrinks call 'closure' on this li'l issue o' yours while ya got the chance." 

Terryman pulled the Stetson over his eyes and let himself be engulfed in the sounds of his six-stringed instrument. "Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam and the deer and the antelope play…"

The Englishman figured that was his cue to exit. He looked to the wide horizon splitting the blue sky, the sun casting its morning light on the red soil, feeling strangely nostalgic. "Kevin."

Terryman looked up. "What..?"

"My name is Kevin."

The old man smiled. "It suites you… Where seldom is heard a discouraging word and the skies are not cloudy all day…"

____________________________________

"Night is a cool one in the desert, it's perfect. No city lights to ruin this." He trimmed the fuses just so. "We're going to have a blast tonight."

______________________________________

Day to afternoon, afternoon to evening, evening to night. The sounds of laughter and gaiety fell muffled on Kevin Mask's ears, he sitting on the front porch brooding while the rest were inside doing their thing. He couldn't deny that Terryman's words held a bit of knowledge, but still, it wouldn't change his feelings, not a bit. Of course he knew Robin was his one and only father. That's why he'd be the one to take his life. Not in could murder like the Bloody Arms boys, but honorably in the ring, a death match. He swore revenge on his patriarch for raping him of his childhood and wouldn't except anyone else getting to him before he did.

Kevin wondered, momentarily, of how his mother fared. He could still remember her voice calling after him as he rushed out the door and ran away from that life. As far as he was concerned, she was as much to blame for his frustration that time ago as Robin was. Even so, he didn't fate her, and if given the chance to see her again, nothing would stop him.

BOOM--!

An explosion? Kevin looked upward to find bursts of colorful, burning lights in the sky, then another and another… The others had detected the noise, as well, Gazelle Man being the first to emerge. "Ah, I thought I heard fireworks," he said with twitching ears.

"Is this for some kind of American celebration?" Asked Seiuchin to either Terry.

"I doubt it," the Kid replied. "There ain't no sort o' holidays comin' up that use fireworks… At any rate, let's enjoy the show."

And so, the night sky filled with the booms and crackles and colored lights burning bright, an impressive display. The show changed its content just a bit, going from circular explosions to word bursts. "Hey," Mantaro pointed skyward. "Check out that one. Kinda looks likes it's sayin' something…Let's see… 'Come… to… HF…'"

HF? Ah, Hercules Factory. "There's another. …'Mega Party'…"

That got them excited. The next one came and the muscle prince continued reading. "Courtesy of…"

The finisher: The last one rocketed high in the air, a tiny sparkly shooting straight up then fading into the darkness. Then, in the loudest explosion, one so harsh that their blood-red buck winced in pain, the last words burned the sky…

B*A

Their blood ran cold. Checkmate rushed to the front to do his duty, opening up the spiraling black space. "Who will lead?" He shouted. "Quickly!"

"I'll go." Terry the Kid scooted the others aside. He felt a warmth on his shoulder, slightly familiar. He turned around to see Mantaro holding him back. 

"Terry," he began, looking at the Kid with eyes that understood the situation, a grave expression. "You should stay with your dad just in case they try again. If their setting off fireworks, then at least one is in the area." Mantaro cast his sights downward. "And Meat, you should stay, too. I don't think this will be a pretty one… Is that all right, Mister Terryman?"

"Don't fret none. Go an' do what needs t' be done."

Kid clenched his fists in frustration. "I don't like the idea o' stayin' behind, but I don't wanna leave my daddy 'lone, neither… Y'all go on ahead and come back safe, y'hear?"

The wrestling royalty nodded. "I promise. Alright, Checkmate. I'll lead…" He approached the chess set wrestler, who placed a hand on his shoulder.

"There are so many Legends at the school: Curry Cook, Ramen Man , Buffaloman…" Seiuchin broke out in a cold sweat. "What horrible people these wrestlers are…"

"How dare they bring noise to our alma mater…" Gazelle Man socked a fist into his open palm. "They'll have hell to pay!"

The others nodded in agreement. Kevin Mask just stood behind them, keeping silent his fear, his anxiety, his rage. "…It becomes my problem, after all..!" Kevin slapped a heavy hand on Gazelle's shoulder. "Mantaro!" He barked. "Get us there in one piece!"

The muscle price looked back at his and gave a confident nod. "Kid, Meat, wish us luck! And Mister Terryman, thank you for all the nice meals today!"

They hopped in that black space, the party of Chôjin wrestlers. It swallowed them up and disappeared, putting the sky back together. The Terrys and Meat could only look on into the night space where the portal appeared just moments ago. The old Terry pulled his hat down once again.

So, Kevin Mask, what will you do now?

  



	7. Dynasties

****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 07: "Dynasties"

___________________________________________________

****

They say a good man is hard to find.  
Thankfully, I'm not looking for one.  
I've got a million bad boys, instead.  
Each one under my thumb.

The wormhole dumped them on the rocky outskirts of the Factory, all five taking a hard landing on the ground. Kevin Mask wasted no time. He pulled the muscle prince up by his shirt. "Quickly!" He barked. "Which way to Hercules?!"

****

"Back off, Mask!" Gazelle knocked his hand away. "If you want to get there in time, follow me..!" The stag bounded ahead, the others following close behind. Leaping over rocks, sliding down hills, running across flat lands, how far from the school had they landed? Gazelle and Kevin were neck and neck in leading the forefront, Checkmate and Mantaro placing second and Seiuchin pulling up the rear. The sounds of men's struggles fill Gazelle Man's sharp ears, pointing straight up as they approached the cliff's edge. Plumes of smoke began to rise, visible even in their darkened part of space. Hurriedly their feet moved, mercilessly their hearts pounded, the ground quaking in their stampede.

****

He stopped short, that stag, the first to arrive. The others trotted to a halt, their eyes growing wide to the sights below. Hercules… Hercules was burning! No time to waste… They jumped off, each and every one, sliding down the rocky grade and doing well to keep their balance. As they speedily descended, the bodies of the fallen came into view, some of them being of Bloody Arms, some being recognized as under-classmen. Battles were being fought below, none of which taking place in the ring. A virtual melee was playing out on their school's grounds. They hit the ground, ignoring the clusters of fighting before the entrance of the Factory. Gazelle plowed into the practically unhinged double doors of the school's entryway, his skin already stinging from the sharp increase in temperature.

****

In the main corridor, the bodies of his underclassmen lay, a trail of blood and carcasses from the doors heading around the corner, small patches of flames burning like candlelight in the hall. Gazelle cringed inwardly, but bit his tongue and strengthened his resolve, leaping over the bodies, his comrades keeping steady to his pace.

****

The end of the long corridor led to the training grounds, where the worst of the situation unfolded. Coming up on its exit, the body count kept rising. The doors had already been knocked down when they arrived to the training area, and they could only look on in horror at their surroundings. The grounds were crawling with gangs of the Bloody Arms wrestlers, all wearing black T-shirts with the blood-red B*A emblazoned across the backs. Mobs of six or seven men surrounded their Justice Chôjin opponents of one or two men, the outcomes of each encounter being obvious… To strike another blow, the proud Hand of Hercules where they'd bested the Legends lay in ruin, the only bit of it left standing being the pillar of stone that once created the wrist. The hand itself had fallen, crumbling to rubble, to waste rock. 

****

"This is… even worse than I imagined…" Seiuchin spoke, horrified.

"Out of my way!!" Kevin Mask pushed the others aside and bolted ahead to the building opposite them.

"Kevin!! Come back!" Mantaro called after him.

"Look out!!" Checkmate pulled the muscle prince back just as Crione Man hit the dirt, skidding and tumbling violently across the ground. "Crione Man?!"

The wail of wings cutting the sky--screaming like a jet at low altitude--came upon them, a painful rush of wind catching the wrestlers as it rocketed by them. Staying low to the ground and doing well to kick up dust clouds in the process, the aerial assailant zoomed to the downed Crione, kicking his body up and ahead without breaking his flight. Then, clutching the protozoa's shoulders, the body facing his own, the winged devil smashed him into the wrist of Hercules, leaving Crione embedded in the rock. As quickly as he came in, that demon resembling the gargoyle statues of France departed, doing a bit of a mid-air spin then stretching its wings to return to the sky.  


"Crione!" The muscle prince was first to reach his side. "Are you okay?!" 

"Mantaro…" The protozoan flashed a mouthful of bloody chiclets. Mantaro smiled, relieved. "Guys," he addressed them. "Help me get him down."

Gazelle Man and Seiuchin provided assistance, jarring Crione loose from the remainder of the Hand of Hercules and easing him down to their level. The transparent tussler began to collapse, too weak to stand. The arms of the animal combination shot out and guided him to his knees. "Crione Man," Gazelle began. "Can you tell us what happened..?"

"Urg… Sig… Help Signal…" He managed between breaths. "He's buried… under… there…." Crione raised a finger to the huge pile of rubble next to them.

"Rest for now. We'll dig him out." The blood-red buck eased their former rival on the ground and assisted the others in dissecting the mess of stone before them. Had he been atop the Hand when it had crumbled, or perhaps, below it? Either way, it was anyone's guess to whether he could have survived the body's fall or the rock fall. 

"Guys! I've found him!" Seiuchin announced, unearthing a corner of the robot's yield sign head. They all converged to the pinniped's area, removing rocks as fast as they could. ………Done. The fellow looked as if he'd been struck by a car four times over. His torso was smashed, shards of broken glass lining the hollows of what once were traffic lights. His wire pole frame was dented and bent out of shape, comparable to an untwisted clothes hanger. The legs, painted a striped yellow and black, the colors of railroad crossings, lay broken apart from him, totaled. 

"Is he alive?"

"Let's get him out." They pulled out his body, Seiuchin and Mantaro, the closest ones, resting the chassis in the dirt. The walrus noticed a bit of warmth on him hands as they excavated Dead Signal, not the same sort of heat a machine would generate, but the warmth of a flesh creature. Seiuchin looked down at his hands and gasped. His bandaged palms were stained with blood..! Mantaro had noticed the same, apparently, his gloves mottled with the stuff. Robots don't bleed, right..? "Guys," the pinniped began. "I think someone else is in there..!"

The Chôjin wrestlers began again pulling away the rocks. Indeed, another had been under there, just beneath Signal. First, they uncovered the legs, still attached to their owner, thank goodness. Pushing over stones big and bigger still to unearth the torso, the depressed chest concluding to crushed ribs. And finally, the head…

"Oh, Jesus… Buffalo Man…"

They choked back the bitter taste of gall, those young Chôjin. It was as if his head had exploded from the back. Blood and brain matter stained the ground, splattered in either direction. His face, Checkmate noted, wore the same expression that his master's did, one of fear, one of the realization of his own death. "This… This is inexcusable!" The king's fists quaked in anger. "What be it that these people wish to prove!?"

"I don't know, but there's no time to think about it right now," said Gazelle Man. "We'll have to fight our way through this if we want to get to the other Legends in time."

"W…Wait…"

They turned to Crione Man, still resting in the dirt. "We… Signal and I were… on the hand for a… a practice match with Buffalo Man. There was… an explosion, and… and suddenly we were falling. I… I can fly, so… I survived. Then those bat… things… or whatever, they attacked me…" He began to cough hoarsely.

"Save your strength, Crione Man." Mantaro rubbed his back, but the protozoan pushed him away with what strength he had left.

"I'm almost done… Jade…" He continued. "Jade was supposed to… be on his way… He's still in the… building… and as far as I know… so are the other Legends. …All these people… it seems they just… appeared from nowhere… Please… to one graduate to another... save the school... and as a Gen-EXer, take care of Jade... I beg you......"

"I promise..." The muscle prince stood. "We'll save the school and guard Jade with our lives. Will you be all right like this?"

"As long... as I lie still... they'll think I'm dead. Please, hurry......"

"Right." Mantaro turned to the others. "Anyone have a plan..?"

"I do." Gazelle Man stepped forward. "Our immediate concern is saving the other Legends. We have a lot of ground to cover, so let's split up into two groups. Mantaro, you and Checkmate take the two classrooms in the west wing. If you can, try and catch up with Kevin Mask. Seiuchin and I will take the east wing. After each of us is done, report to the board room. That'll be our rendezvous point. Everyone okay with that?"

The agreement was unanimous. 

_________________________________

"The way things are now, yer pappy may well be a target, too. How's he doin', by the way? ..........That's too bad. He's the only daddy you've got, y'know."

Terryman's words echoed in Kevin's mind as he shot down the hall full speed, knocking out of his path Bloody Arms boys and Muscle Leaguers alike in his mad rush. The flames surged to his front, to his back, his left and his right... The Englishman just held tight to his trench coat and ran as fast as his heart pounded, checking room after room and body after body but still no sign of Robin...

"UGYAAAAAAHH!!"

A scream down the hall... Could it be..? He rushed to the room at the end of the hall, its double doors wide open. He heard a man's labored breathing upon his arrival. From the darkness of the room, he figured one of the Bloody Arms wrestlers must have busted the lights. Even in the dark, thought, the light from the hallway cast itself upon the gleaming streams of blood near the entrance and the bodies they flowed out of. Kevin entered, ignoring the disturbing 'plish-plish' sound of his stepping in the red rivers underfoot and keeping his ears open. The panting sounded as if it was coming from the back of the room. He moved carefully, cautiously in the dark, taking care not to trip over anything.

No such luck. He caught his foot on something--probably one of the bodies--and stumbled, eliciting a startled little gasp and gaining the attention of the other living being in the room. "Who's there?!" A man called out with a course British brogue. 

"Father..?"

The old man blinked. He moved toward the lighted part of the room and appeared in front of his son, clutching his side. Kevin just looked back at him, a softened expressiveness in his eyes. "You're bleeding... Then, it was your scream..."

"No. It was that one there," Robin pointed to the body beside them, its mouth agape and eyes rolled back in its head. "This wound, though, it's nothing. I... Gah..." Robin collapsed to one knee, only gaining a mildly concerned look from Kevin. "S-So," the old Legend began. "I suppose you're here with these other hooligans..?"

Kevin folded his arms and snorted. "Actually, I came here to make sure you were still alive. I won't tolerate you dying before I get my revenge."

"Revenge? For what?"

"'For what,' he says... You know very well what: my childhood! The constant rigors of training and studying from sunup to sundown, day in, day out... I wanted what the other children had: friendship, good times... I wanted to be normal!"

Robin blinked, then chortled at his son's words. "And **that's** why you ran away? Don't be ridiculous, Kevin Mask!" He continued to laugh.

"What's so funny?!" The young man growled.

"How much normalcy could you come to expect in being born a Chôjin? Besides, if you were so frustrated, why didn't you speak up? You're as much to blame for your own stress as I am, and the way I see it, you're being nothing more than a brat!"

The young Englishman was speechless. It never occurred to him--really, it hadn't-- that maybe, if he had said something, just maybe...... "Anyway, I don't have time to deal with you..." Robin gathered his strength and rose to his feet. "There are still many inexperienced students here. I have to fight so that there will still be a Hercules Factory for them to learn at." He scooted his son aside and made for the exit.

"...Wait."

Robin looked over his shoulder. Kevin Mask sloughed out of his overcoat and led Robin back to where the light of the hallway met the darkness of the room and leaned him against the wall. "Stay here," he said, guiding his father to the floor, having him sit up. "You won't be able to fight for long with that wound." Kevin wrapped his coat around his father's midriff, tying the loose ends tight. "These connivers are after you old Legends, so stay out of sight. If you die, I won't forgive you." 

Kevin gave him a final thoughtful look before rushing out the door to regroup with the New Gens. The old Briton just looked on and sighed deeply, keeping a hand to his injury. 

Knowing that you're not with these people... That you're fighting to help others, even if it **is** just so you can fight with me... It makes me feel like living. ...I won't die here.

______________________

"Red Rain of Berlin!!"

His searing-hot hand melted a hole in the assailant's chest and the muscle-bound menace fell back, desperately taking in air with the one lung he had left. "Master Ramen Man, we must hurry!" Jade wrapped his arm around the old Legend's waist as Ramen Man leaned on the young German's shoulder. The aged man hobbled as quickly as he could with a broken leg, hastily splinted in place by Jade. 

The smoke was getting thicker...  
His eyes were beginning to sting...  
Breathing became more difficult with each passing minute, as well...  
If they didn't make it out soon... 

"Stop, young man," commanded Ramen Man. "I hear something."

"_Vas?_"

"Rumbling..."

The old China man closed his eyes, pushing back his pain and concentrating on the sound, increasing in volume with every second past. Where was it coming from..? He cocked his ovular head slightly. Jade was picking up the noise, too. It sounded almost like a stampede......

"_Achtung!!_"

He pushed the old Legend out of harm's way just as the attacked crashed through the side wall, catching Jade with the single, curved horn sprouting out of its snout. It barreled forth still, going through the opposite wall, then the next wall and the next wall, Jade taking all the force of the charge. It ended with the beast-man smashing Jade into a wall too thick for him to barrel through, probably the stone outer wall of the university. The young man let out a snarl, clawing at the rhino's face. Of course, being human and as such having rather blunt nails, no damage occurred. The beast applied more pressure to the German, crushing his chest and abdomen. Jade gave out a painful cry, but bit back his suffering and summoned up inside himself the legendary fire. "Red Rain--"

"Antler Fist!!"

Gazelle Man arrived on the scene to let the rhino have it, driving his Antler Fist into the beast's side. It turned its heavy head and gave the buck an unreadable look, and Gazelle gave him a victorious smirk in return. Then, the rhinoceros spread its lips in an ugly grin, tsking the stag. Gazelle Man quirked an eye ridge, then looked to the area that he'd struck, his mouth agape. He hadn't damaged him at all..! The spires had merely been sucked into his skin! Gazelle Man mentally kicked himself for not remembering about rhinoceroses and their armor-like hides. Things went from bad to worse for the blood-red buck as the spires on his fist cracked and crumbled, falling in pieces to the floor.

"Oh... shit..."

The beast-man shifted his attentions from Jade to Gazelle Man, cracking his knuckles, each fist as big as the stag's head.

"Oh, shit... Oh, shit... Seiuchin..? Seiuchin..?!"

There was no way in hell Gazelle could ever stand up to such a hulking brute, easily twice his height and thrice his girth. He'd have to play his trump card. "I don't want to resort to this, but you leave me no choice. Take this!"

BAMM! A high kick right between the legs. Well, that old rhino toppled right over, defeated by a go at the gonads. "You okay?" Gazelle knelt to Jade.

"That... was pretty low..."

"You're still alive aren't you?" The crimson stag helped the fellow Muscle Leaguer to his feet. "Come on. We have to get out of here."

"_Ja,_ but what's going on? Why is Hercules being attacked?"

"I'll explain later. Right now, we have to find the other Legends."

"_Herr_ Ramen Man is through there." The German pointed to the bulldozed--well, rhino-dozed--tunnel he crashed through.

"Then we should hurry." 

They sped through the newly formed tunnel, leaping over wall shrapnel and small, burning patches of the individual halls. Imagine their surprise to see that Mantaro and Checkmate had already reach him. "Gazelle Man," Mantaro addressed him. "You found Jade. That's great."

The crimson stag nodded. "Have you two found any of the other Legends?"

"Both Curry Cook and Geronimo......" The muscle prince lowered his head. Gazelle nodded in understanding, looking a little disappointed.

"'Tis a pity, but we muscle hurry Sir Ramen Man to safety." Check hoisted the old master on his back, minding his injured leg. "By the way, Gazelle Man, where hath Seiuchin gone?"

The buck's ears shot up in realization. When he had heard the sounds of that rhinoceros crashing through the walls, he'd ran ahead to check it out. Seiuchin hadn't followed. He didn't answer his calls, either...

"You left him by himself?!" Mantaro asked, flabbergasted. "He can't handle this type of heat for very long. We have to find him!"

The mad rush back through the tunnel and back to their walrus friend began, a short trip, in essence. Gazelle led them back the way he came, down the burning hall and around the corner.

"Here's a present!"

A familiar-sounding grunt and they found their Seiuchin being slammed against a wall, drenched in sweat. "Have another!" The grizzled old hound struck him with the brunt of his palm, the pinniped grunting in pain and losing a tooth in the aftermath. He wanted with all his might to fight back, but it was just so hot...

"Back away, Hoffman!" The muscle prince demanded.

The beast turned around. He suddenly found himself surrounded by the Muscle Leaguers, none of which happy to see him. The pinniped looked up, "Mantaro..." giving a little smile. Seiuchin got to his feet, seeming to regain some resolve at the arrival of his comrades, clenching his fists and putting on his game face.

Hoffman just grinned at the lot of them, not seeming to care that the odds were stacked against him. "Hah! You think you have a chance at beating me? Not likely!"

"Can thou really sayest such a thing after being disgraced at Terryman's ranch?" Checkmate pointed out. The hound just snickered and gestured for one of them to come at him. 

"You are the one responsible for all of this..?!" Jade growled. "You'll pay!" He rushed forth, fist drawn back and ready to deliver Hoffman some well-deserved punishment. He figured one of them would be dumb enough to initiate... With a wave of his claw, a black space opened up in front of him. The young German could not react in time to retract his fist and let it fly into the portal. He tried to pull it out, but it was no use. The black expanse only continued to suck him in, slowly but surely. "_Vas is das?!_" Jade tugged violently, trying to dislodge his fist for dear life. 

His objective accomplished, Hoffman leapt from the human ring and turned to face them. "What will you do?" Inquired the hound. "Will you give chase to me or try to help your friend? Better choose quickly!" He booked down the hallway, giving himself a head start in case they decided the former. 

"Damn! We walked right into a trap!" Gazelle pounded a fist into his open palm.

"I'll go after him," Seiuchin volunteered, starting after the beast.

"Seiuchin!"

The walrus turned to Checkmate. "To mine eyes, it's obvious this fellow won't be able to escape. Please get Ramen Man to the outside."

"B-But..."

"Prithee, do me this, dear walrus. I must... avenge my master. Dost thou think ye can make it?"

"...I can. ...I will." They made the exchange, Seiuchin bearing the weight of the old master and Checkmate to follow through Hoffman's dark portal, identical to one of his own. The pinniped looked back, most of Jade's body already in the vacuum and the others looking ready to go. With a final thoughtful glance, he made down the hall to get back to the main entrance, wishing them the best of luck.

___________________________

That beast, Hoffman made it to the roof in record time. The mission was complete, and there was nothing more to do. The fellows on the inside had already been alerted to disengage via the blowing of a call whistle. If they heard him, good. If not, too bad. He pulled out a flare gun and pointed it to the sky, firing the signal for the fellows on the outside to pull back. Each team had a member who could open portals. It wasn't a particularly uncommon ability, especially among evil Chôjin. Before he knew it, the battlefield became emptied out, his fellow warriors disappearing into spirals of black. He himself withdrew, as well, throwing himself to the darkness of his own creation to return to base. His master's plan had worked perfectly.

It had been a wonderful party, indeed.


	8. The Stag and the Stallion

****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 08: "The Stag and the Stallion"

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He was the first of them to come to, that young king, Checkmate. One minute, he was leaping through that Hoffman's portal after Jade and the rest, the next he found himself in some forest. Tumbling through the portal, the G-force had been too much and he blacked out. The others had, as well, as far as he could see. Gazelle had landed closest to him. He lay there, face down in the dirt, his upper extremities flopped beneath him. The chess set wrestler nudged his deer companion to awaken. "Arise, Gazelle Man," he called, gently shaking his shoulders.

The old gazelle awoke with a grumble, his eyes opening out of sync to meet Checkmate's gaze. "What is thy status?"

"Urg..." Gazelle planted his weight on all fours and rose to stand erect. "I'm fine. Where are we?"

"Of that, I am unsure." Check looked at the surroundings, nothing but unfamiliar trees and vegetation. "The sun is low, but whether it be day or night that approacheth, that I cannot say."

Gazelle shrugged. "We'll find out in an hour or two, in any case." The blood-red buck surveyed the area. The others were there, too. He was happy they all made it together. "Hey, Mantaro. Get up." Gazelle tapped the muscle prince on the face. 

"Urm... Not now, mommy..." Mantaro muttered, turning away from his teammate. The buck squared his hands on his hips, ears quirking to the side in annoyance. Gazelle cleared his throat and in his best Meat impression, yelled: "Cow and rice! Come and get it!"

That did it. That Kinniku kid shot up like a rocket, ready to break into song and dance. He discovered there was neither a slice of beef nor a grain of rice to be found (of course), only Gazelle Man's grinning face. Check, meanwhile, had proceeded to rouse Jade back to the conscious state. The young man came to, the last of them, and approached the New Gens.

"Jade." Mantaro raised his hand in a welcoming gesture. "You okay?"

"_Ja._ Where are we?"

Mantaro shrugged. "We were hoping you might know."

The young man surveyed the area. "_Nein_, I don't recognize anything here."

The rest became a bit downhearted at that. The wrestling royalty quivered in his boots. _Oh, great..!_ The prince lamented. _ Stuck in a creepy forest in the middle of nowhere, bloodthirsty psychos ten times worse than the guys in the dMp… Is this how it ends?!_

_(HOO-HOOO…….)_

"KYAAAAAAAAAH!!" Mantaro shot up high in the air, urine spraying from his pants. "What was that?!!"

"Calm down, Mantaro!" Gazelle hollered. "It's just an owl..! Honestly…"

"Hm. Night is falling, after all…" Checkmate stroked his regal chin. "We should make haste and gather wood for campfire." 

"I agree. No sense in trying to go anywhere right now, anyway. Checkmate," began the buck. "If you would, lay your cape down so we'll know we're at the right place when we return. And Mantaro, you come with me. I don't trust you'll be able to find your way back on your own. We'll gather as much wood as we can find and meet back in ten minutes."

Jade and Checkmate went off on their lonesome while Gazelle Man took it upon himself to baby-sit Mantaro. There were a lot of twigs and broken branches on the forest floor, easy to gather and good for kindling. Night galloping toward them, they hurried to collect as many as they could in the least amount of time possible.

"It's getting scary now, huh..?"

"The forest or our predicament with these Bloody Arms guys?"

"Bloody Arms."

"Maybe. There's not much we can do but keep a brave front and see this thing through till the end." Gazelle stuffed another branch under his arm. "I'm not scared, though. This is the sort of thing we've been trained for: keeping the peace and protecting mankind."

"Protecting mankind is one thing…" Mantaro began in his usual whiny tone. "But planet-hopping is an entirely different story..! Is it just me, or does it seem like we're constantly being picked on? And it's not just the Akugyô Chôjin, either..! Harabote's been plotting against us since the dMp base was destroyed! I tell ya, Gazelle, we just can't win!"

The buck chuckled dryly. "No, I don't suppose we can. Are you worried..? About your father, I mean."

"Huh?" The prince's face faulted. "Well, a little…"

"I wouldn't be, not about a guy like him, the Legend of Legends, the old Kinnikuman. I remember," a nostalgic smile crept upon the stag's face. "My dad used to tell me stories about him and all the other Legends when I was a kid. Someone as great as him won't die. Not ever…"

Mantaro smiled, his face beaming with pride for his father. "How **is** your dad?"

"As good as anyone could expect, considering he's dead."

The smile disappeared from his face and was replaced with a look of shock. He hadn't expected an answer like that. "Oh…. I'm sorry, Gazelle…"

The crimson stag shrugged. "That's the way it goes. People live, people die. I can't change it. At least I can make sure that people will have peaceful lives to live. That's one of the joys of being a Justice Chôjin. Got all your wood for kindling?"

"Yeah. Let's head back." 

Suddenly, they heard a rustling in the bushes. The two young men dropped into defensive positions and the branches and brush they'd collected along with it. Dusk had settled in, but there was just enough light for Gazelle to make out what made the noise. 

The creature stared right at him, light reflecting off its eyes like a cat's would. Its ears shifted and twitched about, seeming to mimic his own. Then, sensing there was no danger, the animal walked off as if it had seen nothing, and Gazelle Man gave a sigh of relief. "It was just a deer…"

"A deer?"

"A fallow deer, to be specific. That means we're somewhere in Europe. Come on." The blood-red buck hurriedly re-gathered the firewood. "Let's get back to the others."

________________________________________

"So you're sure we're in Europe?"

"Well, I have a feeling we are, but the fallow deer's range extends as far as China, so…"

They all took in Gazelle's postulate, wearing heavy brows and gazing directly into their little campfire, bad on the eyes but it couldn't be helped. "Methinks the man-dog would not have sent us so far." Checkmate was next to speak. "We **are** in Europe and for a reason. I sense it to be true."

Gazelle Man nodded. "Then, how about you, Mantaro?" He opened the forum to the muscle prince.

"Um, well…We've only traveled to the places they wanted us to be, right? So, then, if we really are in Europe, why would they want us here?"

"Based on what we know, these guys are targeting Legends, and they're playing a game with us to see if those old men will live or die…" The buck turned his head to spit. "So, let's think. Who is here on this continent that they would be after?"

The young men gave it all their thought. Then, almost simultaneously, three pairs of eyes cast their sights on Jade. _Bastards…_ Gazelle thought bitterly. _This is too much. This is really too much…_

"What's wrong?" Jade inquired, noticing the others' stares.

"Jade," Mantaro began in a gravely serious tone unbefitting of him. "The people who attacked Hercules are members of an organization called Bloody Arms. We don't know a lot about them, but they're going around and killing off all the old Legends, and despite our efforts, they've been pretty successful."

"What does this mean?"

Gazelle Man breathed a heavy sigh. "I think it's safe to say that we've landed in Germany. I'm sorry, Jade, but it looks like Blocken, Jr. is next on their hit list."

The green-clad lad looked back at them blankly. Then, in an instant, he up and darted for the forest. Check and Gazelle dove on him, tackling the young man to the ground. "Let go!! Let me up!!" Jade shouted and kicked, struggling to break free of their grips.

"Calm thyself!"

"Calm down, Jade!"

"Get off!!" He managed to catch Checkmate in the face with one of his flailing feet. The chess set wrestler instinctively brought his hands to the point of impact-- though no pain was felt-- and Jade's right arm found itself free. The German immediately turned to try to push Gazelle away, but Mantaro came in to lend a hand by pinning his legs down while Check returned to restrict his arm.

"Jade, calm down," said Gazelle Man flatly. "You've got to calm down."

"I must get to Herr Blocken!"

"You don't know the way, Jade. If you take off in the middle of the night, you'll only get lost. And how much of a help will you be to him then?"

Jade breathed heavily, seeing sense in Gazelle's words. He stopped his struggling and lay still, awaiting the stag to speak again. "Can we let you up now?" The horned one asked. "Are you going to stay put?"

The young man nodded and the other three slowly took their weight from him. Jade sat up, keeping his eyes to the ground and feeling rather sheepish. Gazelle stood over him. "You have a good friend back at Hercules who's counting on us to take care of you. We promised him we'd keep you safe, so don't make us out to be liars."

The German youth looked up at the crimson stag, a little bit of surprise washing over his face. "…Was it Crione Man..?" Gazelle Man nodded in response. Jade turned away from them, thinking sadly on him and Signal. Did they survive? Were they all right? It rested easily in his mind knowing that Crione was still alive, at least. The green-clad lad gave a deep sigh. "…It's late," said Jade. "We have a lot of walking to do tomorrow, so let's get some rest."

________________________________________

Closer… We're getting closer and closer to the final steps of the plan, it's exciting. I'm looking forward to these next few days, you wrestlers of the New Generation…

"Sir!"

"Hoffman, what news?"

"Operation Hades was a monstrous success! The school is nothing more than a pile of smoking concrete! _Wunderbar!_"

"And the Legends?"

"Only Ramen Man remains, as far as I know, and in less than good shape, I might add."

"Not good enough for me, but if he's injured, there's not much he can do on his own. What of Generation-EX? Did you follow through as ordered?"

_"Ja._ Jade was kept alive and set to Germany, three of those other _dunkoffs_ following."

"Superb… Blocken, Jr. is in Berlin, right? Send someone down to make sure our friends find their way to him. I want them to arrive in the city in three days."

"Ja, mein Führer. Sieg hail!"

__________________________________________

"Quack, quack… Quack… Quack…"

"Rrrmm… Huh…?" 

"Quack, quack..?"

"Woah..!" Mantaro jumped, causing the duck to flutter away in doing so. The sound of roaring water filled his ears. He turned his body around, laying eyes on a river flowing with strong current a few feet away and all its waterfowl carrying out the order of the day. The prince stood up, confused. "But… we were just in a forest… How did we get here?"

The others looked relatively undisturbed despite them having been moved to this location. "Hey, guys! Wake up!" He moved from one to the other, shaking their shoulders and rousing them from their slumber. Gazelle Man's eyes fluttered open and he rolled to his back, giving a loud yawn. "…What is it..?" He asked in partial slur.

"Look. We're out of the forest."

"Muh..?" The stag's ears twitched, shifting toward the sound of rolling water. "…River..?"

"Yeah. Look up and here we are…"

"Man… Phew…" Gazelle went back toward the surrounding shrubs and stood with his back to the others. Curious, the muscle prince approached. "Gazelle..?"

"Don't. I can't go if you're watching."

"Oh. Sorry." The Kinniku turned away, noting the others had yet to get up. He proceeded to awaken Checkmate, the Jade. Upon coming to the young Deutsch, he noticed his right hand was clutching a slip of paper. "What's this?" The prince plucked it from his hand. "Gazelle..!"

"I'm not done!"

Mantaro groaned inwardly. Whatever this note was, it was all in German, obviously meant for Jade. "Come on, man, get up! It's important!" The wrestling royalty shook the green-clad lad violently. The young man woke with a start, so much so that he thought he was being attacked and took a swing at Mantaro, missing, but that was a good thing.

"What are you doing?!" Jade rose to two feet, looking cross. He then realized that they were out in the open instead of surrounded by trees. "What is this place? How did we get here?"

"I don't know, but you had this in your hand." He handed the young German the paper. Check and Gazelle (having finished his business) gathered around him. He ran his blue eyes over the note. "What's it say?"

"…'Follow the river upstream. You have 3 days to reach Berlin. If you don't show up by 10 p.m. on the third night, we'll send the old man to Hell. Don't dawdle, now.' Signed, your friends at B*A'…."

"So… they're just toying with us now…" gazelle Man stomped his foot in frustration. Jade crumpled the note and threw it to the ground. "Let's go."

The allies in red nodded, and the three of them trekked up the path. "Hey, guys..!" Mantaro called after them. "What about breakfast?"

They just pressed on, ignoring him. It dawned on the muscle prince that things were too serious now to be whining about food. He hurriedly trotted to join the others, leaving his stomach to do all the complaining for the duration of their march.

______________________________

Day 1 and 2 went by quickly. Though their feet ached, they only stopped to fulfill the needs of the body: food, drink, and expulsion. As Day 2 grew to meet its night, it was decided they'd once again gather the fixings for a campfire and leave the rest for a rest.

"We should be coming up on Berlin soon," stated the stag, pacing around the fire. "We can't stop for anything tomorrow, so make sure to get some good stretching in before we start up again. We've got to get there that night, at the very latest. There's too much on the line."

"Well, **duh**, Gazelle..!" Came Mantaro's commentary. "You saying all that doesn't make us feel any better..!" The crimson stag just let it slide and took an empty spot between Jade and Checkmate to retire. "Anyway," the Kinniku kid continued, turning to Jade. "I'm sure everything'll be fine. Blocken, Jr.'s one of the best around, right? He can handle his own if he needs to."

"He won't have to handle his own because **we're** going to be there in time," Gazelle growled, glaring daggers at Mantaro. "That's enough chatter. We need to be well rested for tomorrow." The buck flopped on his side. "Good night," he snorted.

"Yeah, yeah…" Mantaro lay on his stomach and nestled his chin on crossed arms. Checkmate wrapped his checkered cloak around his body and rested his head on his knight shoulder piece, removed for his personal comfort. "Man…" the prince whispered to the king. "He's starting to be a real pain about this…"

"Methinks he is just becoming a bit nervous," the chess set wrestler replied. "Can thou blame him?"

"No, I guess not…" He gave a little yawn. "It **is** getting scary now… Well, good night, Check. G'night, Jade."

"Till it be morrow…"

_"Guten nacht."_

__________________________________

"See that, boy? That's the Paro Special, Warsman's technique. He's great."

"Can I be great like him?"

"My boy, you don't have to be like Warsman to be great. You don't even have to be a Chôjin. Men with good, brave hearts are great on their own. I'm the luckiest dad on Earth to have a son like you. You're going to grow up to be a good Chôjin , aren't you?"

"No, I'm going to be the greatest!"

"Ha ha ha! That's the spirit, little man! You're going to be the best of the best Show the whole world just how great a Chôjin you really are!"

_______________________________________

Gazelle awoke to the sparkling night sky, sweating a bit. He sat up and placed a hand on his head, wondering what it was that prompted a dream about his childhood. Then he recalled the conversation he'd had with Mantaro two nights prior and scoffed.

"'Tis a bit early to begin again, is it not?"

Gazelle turned to find Checkmate sitting by the fire, looking as if he hadn't gotten a bit of sleep yet. "Couldn't sleep?" The stag inquired,

"Nay. 'Tis a fleeting bird, this sleep." He repositioned himself, deciding that sitting cross-legged would be more comfortable. "Thou seemest a bit different."

Gazelle cocked his head. "How so?"

"Thou art more serious than usual. Even the muscle waif hath taken notice of thee. I can understand thy feelings though…" Check cast his gaze to the fire, still burning steadily. "More than any of ye will ever know. It is my wish for none of ye to feel what I felt that day. For that reason… and for Master Sunshine……" He trailed off.

The buck kicked at the dirt. "He was all you had, huh..?"

The king released a heavy sigh. "'Tis true."

"I know how that is. My dad, er… Well, he died when I was still young. He wanted for me to grow up to be a good, righteous Chôjin. Instead, I just became arrogant. I wasn't always like that, though." He drew his knees up to his chest. "I think… children who grow up all on their own tend to be boastful. They want the whole world to hear how great they are because they don't have anyone in their lives to tell…"

Checkmate just continued to give the blood-red buck his full attention, too enthralled by his sudden insightfulness to add to the conversation. "I fight with all my heart," Gazelle continued. "I always fight with all my heart. I'm working hard to win gracefully--to win, period--and to not be so arrogant. I'm trying my best, and you should, too, Checkmate."

"What?"

"…Don't be hateful, don't be angry…" He gave the king a genuine smile. "I think you'll do better as a good and righteous Chôjin ."

And that was that. He lay back in the dirt, that Gazelle, the calming roar of the river lulling him back to sleep. Checkmate lay on his back, mind totally blown, wondering why Gazelle Man had suddenly become so open with him. In any case, tomorrow was the final day to make it to Berlin and he needed rest. The young men would need all their strength and energy to save Blocken.


	9. Red Rain

****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 09: "Red Rain"

___________________________________________________

****

1945 ends the second World War,

Price of it heavy like the weight on your heart.

Death you promote with the skull on your cap.

Alemán, you're gonna suffer like nothing else…

Jade had already entered the city of Berlin. He stood outside the city gate, hunching over and breathing heavily, his clothes drenched from the torrent up above. He made it… He finally made it… Suddenly, the clock in the town square began to chime. A new hour tolled, but which? He didn't have time to check. Jade made a beeline through town, stampeding down the old cobblestone streets to reach his Herr Blocken. Despite what Bloody Arms might have thought, this was no game. This was life and death. A minute lost could mean a life lost. He couldn't die. Blocken wouldn't die, not that old man whom he'd come to respect as his trainer and love as if he were his father. No one would take that away from him.

He turned the door handle. _It's open…_ Jade's felt a chill run down his spine. Blocken ran a tight ship. The doors and windows were locked at all times. For the front door to be unlocked, and at night… "Master Blocken!!" 

The house was black and silent. Dare he say dead silent… Jade entered, keeping his wits about him. They could be anywhere in the house, if they were indeed there, those atrocious Bloody Arms men. He made it to the stairs in one piece, and scaled up them, checking his coach's bedroom. It hadn't been touched since it had been made that morning. None of the lights were on upstairs… Had he left for the night? If so, it could have been viewed as either a good thing or a bad thing. Sighing, the young man felt about for the light switch, and flipped it on.

_______________________________

Of all the days it could have rained…

And of all the times Jade could have decided to run off…

They'd overslept, Gazelle, Mantaro, and Checkmate. Mantaro was the first to be up and the first to notice that they were short one person. The other two were up and they were off. Gazelle figured he probably had a good hour on them, at most, so they ran the whole way through, past the morning, past noon, past the evening and into the night, running in time with the pounding of their hearts.

"Ease up..! I see it..!" Gazelle said between breaths. "Come on..! Just… a bit farther..!"

Once they arrived, it occurred to them that not a one of them knew where Blocken lived..! _Damn, why did Jade have to take off?_ "Come on!" Gazelle Man began knocking door to door in hopes of getting some info. He had learned some simple German speak, probably during his schooling days. "_Hallo? Hallo?" _He called, trying to recall his lessons. The men banged on door after door, hoping that just one person would answer them, hoping one good fellow would help them out. Finally, after much trying,someone finally opened a door for them. "_Ja..? Aah! Ist es Gazelle Man! Und Checkmate und Mantaro, auch! Willkommen!_"

"Speaken… Er… _Sprechen Sie Englisch?_"

"_Ja…_ A little.."

"Can you tell us where Blocken, Jr. lives? It's very important."

"Oh, Herr Blocken! Vell, he ist living in za big houze down za road dere. Za houze namber ist 201."

"_Danke schoen! _Come on!" 

They made haste in the direction the man pointed out to theme, their bodies burning in the cold rain. Angry didn't even come close to describing Gazelle Man at that point. His was furious. They were practically there, they were all right there… Then Jade suddenly got it in him to take off before the rest of them awoke... _Damn him! This isn't the time to go rushing in blindly! _

"Gazelle!" Mantaro shouted, pointing to a dwelling ahead of them. "That's the house over there! 201, right?"

Sure enough. The house that man described was in full view, rusty Arabic numerals 2-0-1 mounted on the door. They leapt the stoop, the crimson stag first to wrap his hand around the knob. The door swung open and in they ran. "Jade?!"

Their only answer was soft, male sobbing. Gazelle's ears shifted left, toward the staircase, at its bottom, Blocken, Jr.. All three young men breathed sighs of relief, but was it he who was crying. The muscle prince approached. "Blocken..? Oh…… Oh, no…"

The old man buried his face in the crook of Jade's neck, putting a cheek to his rhythmless chest and wept, his water mixing with the boy's blood and dancing to stain both their skins. Between his sobs, they could make out something about him going to the store-- the liquor store judging by the broken bottle of Cognac beside him-- and returning to find this… The spear tip pierced his heart. He'd been shot through the back in that old familiar tactic of Blood Arms. "Why…?" Blocken asked the sky. "Why my boy..?"

The old Legend was inconsolable, barely seeming to notice the others' presence. Life had been so terrible until Jade showed up, and for the first time since they defeated the dMp and its Akuma Chôjin, he could put down his wino ways and be happy. Fighting was all he knew, fighting was all he could do. He loved the boy as if he were his son. He actually started to believe his was his son. It wasn't fair. Parents weren't supposed to outlive their children… 

Mantaro could only look up him, brokenhearted, but Checkmate was furious. "Is this how it's done?!" He roared. "Show thyselves! SHOW THYSELVES!!" His shouts echoed through the house.

___________________________

"That's enough of this. Let's put the old man out of his misery. And don't screw up this time. There's only one spear left."

"I got trigger happy. So sue me. Don't worry. I've got a clear shot. This time, his head comes off."

____________________________

Gazelle Man breathed a heavy sigh. There was no discernable emotion spread 'cross his face as he knelt beside the old man. "Blocken…"

And that was all she wrote. He was the only one who could have heard it, the reloading of their gun. Jade Jade been murdered, albeit a case a of mistaken identity, and so, the promise to Crione Man had been broken. And come to find that the Bloody Arms boys had stuck around to try again… Hercules needed instructors, Blocken needed to be protected, so what was his life in the matter, anyway? As soon as the shot rang, he threw himself in front of Blocken, that Gazelle, the impartial spear penetrating his heart in an echo of Jade's murder. His body, on its knees, wobbled for a bit, then fell forward, landing on the fist and driving it in deeper. Mantaro and Checkmate gathered around him, the king propping his back up with his arm. 

"You knew of this, didn't you..?" Check began, abandoning his olde English speak for the time being. 

The buck chuckled. "Yeah, that's why I talked… with you last night… I figured… It wouldn't matter, anyway…"

"Gazelle, don't die!" Mantaro cried, his eyes already brimming over with saltwater.

"Now's… not the time for… tears, Mantaro… Get Blocken to Hercule… Uck…" Gazelle Man threw up blood and began to sputter. His beautiful, black eyes rolled back into his head and he exhaled, as if to signal his release from that life.

"Gazelle..? Gazelle Man?!" Mantaro shook him violently, but he wouldn't be waking up, not for him, not for anyone he left behind. The muscle prince covered his eyes with a single gloved hand and choked back a sob. Checkmate laid down the buck's body gently and rose to stand. Jade's death had been the dynamite, and in taking Gazelle's life, those bastards just lit the fuse. The trajectory of the spear fist, the shooter had to be before him on the second level. 

____________________

"Shit. We better peel out of here."

"The boss isn't going to like this…"

"Hm? Hey, what's that Checkmate guy doing?"

They found out soon enough. In one breathtaking stunt, the chess set wrestler bounded the banister and kicked to the top of the second level's guardrail. Though the light was dim, he could make out those painfully familiar faces of Hoffman and Rhodes.

"Murderers…" Checkmate growled, backed by ungodly rage. "I won't forgive you!!"

Enraged, the king rushed the two. Hoffman slipped into a well-timed portal, leaving his rooster buddy to fend for himself. He caught the bird by surprise and plowed him into the adjoining wall, that Checkmate. Red Island Rhodes managed to shove the king away and leapt to the first level. That sort of thing was no great shakes for Check, who simply gave chase to the outside.

The rain was weighing him down, that giant rooster, his plumage was swelling with water, making it difficult to get good speed. Running wasn't his strong suit to begin with, but the inclement weather made things ten times worse for him. But, of course, one man's loss is another's gain as Check was closing in and closing in fast. Once the gap was closed, the king tackled Rhodes to the hard, cold street. Rhodes tried for dear life to scramble away, but Checkmate slammed him to the ground again, flipping him around so that their eyes met. The king took a fistful of drenched feathers and pulled the rooster up by his chest, then sent his free fist crashing into his face.

The rooster gave a broken cry as Checkmate's fists pummeled his face again and again, to the point of splitting his nose. "Stop!!"

"Would **you**?!" He moved to send a pile of knuckles to his mouth, knocking out a good three teeth and jarring loose many others. Blood began pouring out of the oral orifice, his eyes clenched shut from the pain. 

Checkmate wasn't done, though. Far from it. This time, he clutched the bright red crest on Rhodes's head and turned his body to face the cobblestone again. Mercilessly, the king slammed his forehead into the street with all his power, breaking the skin (and hopefully cracking skull) and deep down, enjoying his enemy's blood spilling from it.

"Please, don't kill me…"

"How dare you!!" He slammed his head again. "You dare plead for your life to me?! After killing Jade--" Slam. "and Gazelle--" Slam. "and especially Master Sunshine?!" The rooster just wept, his face drenched in blood. 

_Don't be hateful, don't be angry. _

Gazelle Man's words came to him clear as day. At this point, he was no better than the person he was beating to death. He hadn't felt such rage since his days in the dMp. But this guy… he killed Jade and Gazelle… He saw the gun in his hands. He pulled the trigger. It would be so easy just to switch to Knight and trample him or to Rook and crush his skull. So why…?

Checkmate released his grips on the dirty bird. He stood over him imposingly and said in a quiet, angry voice: "Death is too good for you. Leave here, but I swear, if you come back to bother us, I'll kick your chest till your heart explodes."

Rhodes didn't look back. He took off, heavy feathers and all down the street, just thankful to be alive.

The king headed back to Blocken's house with mixed emotions. He'd felt no sort of attachment to Gazelle Man, even though he had begun friendship ties with him and the others of the New Generation some weeks ago. Maybe it was because they'd just talked the night before, or maybe it was the sad look in his eyes before he approached his death. Whatever the case, Blocken was saved and that was the important thing, wasn't it..? Even if his friends died, they were only doing as Justice Chôjin should, right..? 

Checkmate dropped to his knees. It was so unfair. Why was everyone dying like this..? What did any one of them do to deserve these actions against them..? "We could have been friends… We could have been… the very best of friends……" It was uncertain whether the water streaming down his face was rain or tears, but either way, after all these years, even after all the training to abandon feelings in the negative, he roared out his sadness to the sobbing clouds above.

  



	10. No More Games

****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 10: "No More Games"

___________________________________________________

They allowed Blocken as much time as needed to clean Jade's body and dig for him a temporary grave in the backyard. The old man wiped the sweat from his brow and the tears from his eyes. "It's just for now," he assured himself and those around him. "My boy will have a proper burial when I return."

"So, then, you'll come with us to Hercules?" Mantaro inquired.

"_Ja._ I can't be here right now. I have to go."

Checkmate nodded, tearing open the familiar expanse. "Then let's be off." _I swear to ye, to both of thee, no more friends will die. This is where it ends._

The group that started with four ended with two plus one as they flowed into the black space, Mantaro holding the body of Gazelle Man tenderly. Bloody Arms had stolen away not just two of their fellow Muscle Leaguers, but two dear friends. Such a travesty was inexcusable. "Mantaro, take over the lead," Checkmate commanded. "I shall go to retrieve Kid." 

The muscle prince nodded and Check was off, veering to the right where his concentration created a fork in the vortex: fallen Hercules Factory to the left, Terry Ranch to the right. Keeping to their own course, Mantaro and Blocken, Jr. got off at the Factory archway, dumped significantly closer than last time, the prince noted. Upon their arrival, they found scores of the royal Kinnikuman Guard all over the place, some clearing away rubble and debris, most just hauling away the bodies of the dead. He could spy up ahead, that Mantaro, the captain of the guards, and so approached with Blocken behind. "Captain!"

"Oh! Prince…" He saluted the wrestling royalty.

Mantaro set Gazelle's corpse down gently. "I want his body cleaned and delivered to the coroner. He was a dear friend, so make sure he doesn't get sent to the morgue."

"Yes, of course, prince."

"Oh, and one more thing: Have you seen a big walrus guy anywhere?"

"Yes, prince. Straight ahead. You'll find your father there with him, as well."

"Okay. Thanks a lot." The two made their path straight, meeting with his father and the Irish pinniped at the former hand of Hercules. "Dad!"

"Ah, son! And Blocken, Jr.!" He shook the German's hand and patted his son on the back. "Glad you're safe. There are lots of things going on, it seems..." The muscle monarch noticed blotches of blood on his son's shirt. "Are you all right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. This isn't mine. It's from Ga--" He buttoned his lip, remembering Seiuchin was among them. 

"Bro, where's Checkmate and Gazelle Man?" The pinniped inquired. "And wasn't Jade with you all?"

"Um…" Mantaro cast a glance to Blocken, who merely pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes. The prince took a deep breath and broke the dreaded news. "Checkmate went to get Terry. Gazelle and Jade… They… They were killed……"

Seiuchin looked back at him in disbelief. "You're joking, right..?" The walrus clutched the muscle prince's shoulders. "Gazelle's dead..? **Our** Gazelle is dead..?"

Mantaro turned his head away from Seiuchin's shocked gaze. The walrus relinquished his grips from the prince and backed away, his mouth slightly agape. "This… isn't happening…" 

"I know, Seiuchin, I know… None of this seems real…" The wrestling royalty rested an easy hand on his friend's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "But… now's not the time for tears. I want to go back to Earth and have fun like we used to, even if we'll be short one person. I'm sure Gazelle wants that for us, too. And Mister Blocken," he turned to the old Legend. "Don't you be sad, either. Jade's gone, but you're not alone. There are still lots of people here who can learn from you. I'm sure the other Gen-EXers would appreciate getting to know you. That is, when they get better. So, everyone, cheer up, okay..?" 

Mantaro gave them all a warm, little smile before divorcing himself from the group, walking back towards the cliffs. The young Kinniku gave a little sigh and kicked at the dirt, turning back in his head to the times when they could just idle about town without a care, all four of them. _Harabote calls us the Fool Four. Suddenly, we're the Fool Three… It doesn't even sound right…_

"It took a lot of heart to say all that."

Mantaro looked over his shoulder. "Oh. Hey, dad."

The old king joined his son at his side. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah… It's just kinda hard right now. "

"I know. I lost friends and allies, too, thanks to those people. But, if they aren't stopped, there will be a lot more tears in the near future. You've got to bury your sadness and fight on. That's what Justice Chôjin do."

He knew that. It didn't make things any easier for him, though. "Is Ramen Man okay? We found him in the building during the attack."

"Mm-hmm." Suguru crossed his arms. "He's over at Muscle General. Oh, and Robin Mask is there, too. But what really surprised me is that his son went along with him. Robin was worried about him for a while, but I guess with all that's going on, even his estranged son would have to sit up and take notice."

"You're probably the next on their list, you know. You gonna be all right?"

"Are you kidding? I'm Kinnikuman!" The elderly man puffed out his chest. "And besides, I've got the Guard and the elite Flex Soldiers to back me, remember? So don't worry about it."

Mantaro nodded. "Gazelle Man was saying all that, too…"

"See? Even he knew the deal! You just go on and do what you need to, and your papa and your mama will have a big bowl of cow and rice waiting for you back home."

The prince gave him a little half-smile. The old king blinked, thinking that the promise of a beef bowl would have done it for sure. Sighing, Suguru wrapped an arm around his son's shoulder. "It's okay to grieve for your friends. Just don't lose yourself in despair. …You're a good, kind boy, Mantaro."

"Thank you…" He sniffled and wiped his overflowing eyes.

______________________________________

"This is it. Even though things didn't go according to plan in Berlin, we got two heads for the price of one. At this point, we have nothing left to worry about. Hoffman!"

"Sir?"

"All the necessary preparations have been made. Go and bring us our friends."

"Yes, sir! Immediately!"

_____________________________________

Check returned with Terry at his side. The bad news was broken to the young Texan, and, as expected, he did not take well to it. "Damn them all to hell!" The Kid swung his fists in a violent rage. "I swear, I'll tear each an' every one o' them Bloody Arms bastards limb from limb!! I won't let 'em get away with this!"

"That's right," Seiuchin concurred. "We can't allow for this sort of thing to happen again. We need to get these guys at the source."

"That all sounds well and good, but we need to figure out where the Bloody Arms base is, first."

"Gazelle Man's a whiz when it comes to makin' plans in a hurry. I'll bet he--" Terry bit his tongue. "That's right. I can't talk like that anymore. Sorry…"

"Forgiven." Checkmate stood up. "Methinks there may be a chance that not all the Bloody Arms wrestlers escaped in the attack on Hercules. We should check with the guards if any were taken in. If that be the case, we can question the fiend."

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about..! Alrighty, let's go chitchat with the guards." 

As soon as they put their bodies in motion, the trill of a whistle sounded the start of a commotion. Soon, guards, guards, and more guards were whizzing by them, each one clutching a spear. Not ones to stand by idly, the young wrestlers followed suit, wondering what all the fuss was about. 

They had him brought to the king, ol' dog face, cuffed in heavy chains, spears pointed at his neck. 

Had that hound, Hoffman, returned for more? "You again?!" Terry growled. "Come sniffin' 'round these parts fer some more trouble, ya big, ugly mutt?"

Hoffman spat in his face. Enraged, Terry came at him, the others quick to hold him back. "King Suguru, we found this guy skulking around the back of the building," one of the guards addressed him. "What are your orders?"

Before he could reply, Mantaro raised a hand to his arm. "Dad? Can I take this one?"

"Hm? You know him?"

"This guy, he was here during the attack. I think we can get some information out of him on where his base is." 

"There's no need," Hoffman chortled. "I've come to take you there."

The young men were taken aback. Really? Just like that? "What do you mean, you've come to take us there?"

"It means just what it sounds like. _Mein Führer _ is ready to meet with you all, so let's go. He's waiting."

The Kid shook his head. "No way. Not with you."

"Come on, Terry," the young Kinniku chided. "What if he's telling the truth?"

"What if it's just a trap?"

"How many chances are we going to get? This is the guy who can open up portals, I've seen him do it..!"

Terry snorted. "Yeah, an' if you recall, it'll be up to him as t' where we end up..! For all we know, he could drop us smack in the middle of the Bloody Arms trainin' yard!"

There was no use trying to convince Kid. Mantaro turned to the guards. "…Put down your weapons. Release him."

The guards seemed confused by the order. "Are you sure, Prince?"

"Do it!"

They lowered their spears and let the dog out of the manacles. "Grarrr…" Hoffman rubbed his wrists. "You should invest in some comfortable handcuffs…"

"Stop joking. Take us to Bloody Arms."

Hoffman grinned, then with a wave of his claw, a black space opened up in front of them. "Right this way…" The hound mock-bowed and presented his hand to Mantaro. "Prince…"

The wrestling royalty slapped his hand away and put his own on the villain's fur-bearing shoulder. "If you're coming," Mantaro began, speaking to Terry and the others. "Now's the time."

"I shall follow, without a doubt." Checkmate stepped up to attach to the prince. 'What of you, walrus..?"

"…I want to see just who's behind all this. Great whites couldn't keep me away." Seiuchin joined them, too.

All that remained was Terry now. The others looked back at him, all wearing expressions that seemed to say, 'well?'. "……Argh, this is fuckin' stupid, man…" The Kid begrudgingly opted to come along, taking his potty mouth with him. 

Mantaro turned to Hoffman. "We're set. No funny stuff."

"Trust me. There's nothing funny about the hell you're about to go through. Well, maybe not to you…"

And so, they entered, entrusting their lives to the bad dog, himself. The trip through Hoffman's space tunnel was tolerable this time, a notable change. Perhaps it was because in this instance they were relying on the hound to pull them through. Whatever the case, they kept their eyes wide open the whole way through, crossing black space to the desired destination: Bloody Arms HQ.


	11. The Boss

****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 11: "The Boss"

___________________________________________________

****

Good to see you, nice to meet you,

New Generation wrestling few.

You may call me El Matador,

Slayer of old bulls.

A pinhole twinkle at the end of the tunnel, an engulfing yellow light and there they were, crush velvet underneath their feet. Someone had rolled out the red carpet for them, it seemed. It extended to the back of the room, folding over the steps of an ascending staircase and leading to a simple, marble throne with a giant cattle skull mounted to its head. The could see a figure rising to stand, too far away to make for any further distinctions. "Welcome, Muscle Leaguers..!" The figure boomed as he descended upon the staircase. "And Checkmate, as well..! The rival gang's all here!"

"You're the leader of Bloody Arms?" Mantaro growled his inquiry.

"So many people visiting me today…" The man ignored the muscle prince's question for the time being. Coming down to their level they cast their sights on him, a tall man approaching 7 feet and clad in red. A mask similar to El Niño's covered his face, cut away around the nose and mouth to reveal tanned skinned underneath. He kept his right arm close to him and hidden under a crimson cape fastened to his shoulder and tapering down to his waist. His outfit could have been inspired by Mars; where the dirty bird had a white outline of a phoenix, this fellow had the front view of a bull's head, and all accentuated with a black bullfighter's hat. "Welcome to the Bloody Arms space base."

"We're in space?" The guest wrestlers gained quizzical looks on their faces.

"Mm-hmm." The man in red clapped twice and the metal panels situated all around the throne room slid up simultaneously, revealing large windows, and nothing but stars and darkness to see through them. "See anything familiar?"

Sure enough. It took some focusing, but it looked as if they were somewhere near Muscle Planet. "We're on the dark side of Lunarplexis," he continued. "This ship is spherical and designed to look like a small asteroid. That's how we've been able to go unnoticed by the interplanetary authority on Muscle Planet. As far as they can see, we're just another floating rock in space."

"That's pretty clever," said the Kid, cracking his knuckles. "Mind tellin' us what yer deal is?"

"First, allow me to introduce myself. My name is El Matador. It means 'the killer' in Spanish. And like a matador, I slay bulls, the old kind that have been put out to pasture."

"Thou dost speak of the Legends…" Checkmate narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, that's correct. I suppose you'd like to know why we've been killing them left and right, eh?"

The ol' walrus bristled. "Well, we didn't come all this way to admire the view."

Matador chuckled. "No, I suppose you didn't. You see, the Legends are the best of the best. They've defeated countless enemies, saved humankind again and again, and so on, and so forth… Now that they've grown old, they're spending the rest of their days as instructors, molding new and unchallenged Chôjin into good and righteous protectors of justice. And so, the world looks back on them lovingly."

"Get to the point."

"The point is, progress can't be made if people keep clinging onto memories of the past. It's time to wipe the memories of the Legends from the people's minds and begin a new era in time. Forget Muscle League, forget dMp… Those are nothing but archaic institutions important only to those weak, old men. You see, we…" the man in red extended his hand to them. "are a beautiful, new breed of Chôjin, and as such, deserve a chance to shine. The new should not be forced to remain in the shadows of the old..! Just think: The explosive power of the New Generation Justice Chôjin , the hard-hitting carnage of the Bloody Arms wrestlers… Our war will be the greatest in Chôjin history!"

"…That is utter bullshit," said Terry, matter-of-factly. "You don't want a new era… You just wanna repeat history..!"

"_Au contraire,_ cowboy. With the old Legends eliminated, there'll be no one to teach the Justice Chôjin of the future. They'll have the power, but not the skills necessary to wield it. That said, they'll be nothing but carcasses at our feet. The New Generation Devil Chôjin will reign supreme over mankind, and there won't be anyone around to stop us. Though the scenario may be similar, the outcome will be just the opposite."

"If thine purpose was to eradicate Justice Chôjin," Checkmate began. "Why didst thou murder my master, Sunshine..?!"

"Before I answer that, you'll have to agree to some of my terms."

"Forget it," Mantaro growled. "You've toyed with us all along, but this time, we're not gonna play it your way!"

The muscle prince bit his tongue and remained completely still. The others gritted their teeth and broke out in cold sweats. El Matador had pulled a glock on the wrestling royalty, aimed right between his eyes. "Then I can just kill you here. We can do it however you want. It makes no difference to me."

"…What kind of Chôjin are you..?" The young Kinniku breathed. "Not even the wrestlers of the dMp would stoop so low…"

"I'm just one of a beautiful, new breed of Devil Chôjin, a ruthless, killing machine. So, the canvas or the casket?"

"……Fine. What do you want us to do?"

Matador smiled devilishly, returning his weapon to its holster. "I'm sure you know Hoffman and Bighorn quite well by now." His two cronies threw out their ugly grins and chuckled. "And speaking of the All-Stars, where's Rhodes?"

"The cock won't be coming back," said Checkmate. "I sent him running in Berlin."

The man in red shrugged. "Whatever. My two strongest are here, and that's all that counts. Well, before I commence with the rest of the operation, I'd like to see your powerful generation in action. Two of yours against my Animal All-Stars."

"…Belay thy tongue. Thou speakest too much." Checkmate tossed away his checkered cape. "I care not about these two before me. Thou art the one I wish to do battle with."

Matador declined, waving his hand side to side. "Sorry, friend, but the only one of you I'm getting in the ring with is Mister Second Generation, himself." 

"Hey, Checkmate," Bighorn called out to him. "It might interest you to know that Sunshine was our assignment."

The chess set wrestler's eyes widened. "That's right," Hoffman followed up. "We crushed him in ten minutes flat and set his place ablaze..! And if we could do it again, we sure as hell would!"

"You…" The king step forward, ready to pounce on either of the two.

"Well, I guess that's settled. Who will be Checkmate's partner?"

"I'll do it," Terry answered the call to arms. "I wasn't able t' be with y'all at Hercules or Berlin. Let me make up for it by fighting today."

The king nodded. "As ye like. Wouldst thou mind if I go first? "  
  
"Knock yerself out, partner."  
  
"Well, if that's everything, I'll let you four get started." Matador shifted behind his cloak and pull from there a small remote control. "If you would, step away from the carpet, please."  
  
He pressed the button and a great rumbling came from underneath their feet. The carpet swelled and rose before them like a tower in a sea of red. It split and revealed a glorious four-sided ring, its sides decorated with the familiar red letters, B*A. "This is a special ring I had set up exclusively for this event," said El Matador, arms outstretched. "My All-Stars have been waiting for this moment since Operation: Bloody Hell began. Does it make you happy, you two?"  
  
"It's indescribable, mein Führer..!"  
  
"Please, sir," Bighorn stood at attention. "Allow me to express my joy in the ring!"  
  
"Mm-hmm. Bighorn, you go first."  
  
The Bloody Arms bruiser gave an affirming nod and hoped the ropes to land on the untouched canvas, Hoffman joining him at his corner and gesturing for their opponents to step up. "Ya ready, Check?" Terry patted him on the back.  
  
"Quite. Let's begin."

  



	12. Tag Match!

****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi 

Chapter 12: "Tag Match!!"

___________________________________________________

So, has it come to this..?

They circled each other, arms raised in a ready-to-grapple position.

Do all the answers lie in the outcome of this match?

Bighorn rushed in like a hurricane, his arms open wide and ready to capture Checkmate. The chess set wrestler braced his feet in the mat, ready to receive. Suddenly, the horned hombre dropped his head low and made his torso parallel to the floor. He swung his heavy head, ready to send his finely sharpened horn into the unprepared Checkmate. The king managed to make a graceful leap to evade it, however, and sent a foot to Bighorn's face. The beast recoiled in pain, bringing his hands to cover his now sore nose.

Recovering quickly, he began again in the same method as before, only this time he aimed to strike Check's collarbone with a pair of Mongolian chops. The chess set wrestler caught his large hands in either of his palms before the chops could connect, but began to buckle under his opponent's crushing power. He dropped to one knee, that young king, still pushing upward to keep that beastly man from landing a hit. Then, an idea hit him. Instead of resisting, Checkmate did just the opposite and let Bighorn bear his full weight, causing the green creature to fall forward as the chessmaster let his own body fall to its back. Bighorn's forward motion provided for Check's next move. The Bloody Arms wrestler now above him, the king planted both feet on his abdomen and launched the bruiser skyward. Hopping back to his feet, Checkmate transformed to Knight mode and leapt to meet him.

"Pile Driver Stallion Style!!"

That dark knight crushed opponent Bighorn to the canvas mat, landing with a great and fierce rumbling. The first point went to Checkmate and the New Gens, then. Matador wasn't worried, though. His wrestlers were made of stronger steel than that. Even under a pile driver of nearly 1700 pounds, Bighorn could take it, he knew. This tag match, in his mind, would be the prelude to the grand and beautiful Chôjin war he wanted to create. His men would win, and the New Gens' final hopes would rest on the shoulders of Kinniku Mantaro and his line's explosive power. That, too, would end in victory for himself and the Bloody Arms organization, and then their reign would cast its shadow on all the world.

Bighorn slowly rose to his knees and cracked his neck. "Yo, is that all you can do, fella?"

Checkmate was mildly surprised. But then, this **was **one of the guys who helped to kill Sunshine…

"Hey, Bighorn! Let me join in!" Hoffman barked excitedly from ringside.

"In a minute, in a minute." The green one cracked his knuckles and returned to his opponent. "I want to see some blood before I tag out…"

Checkmate snorted, readying himself to approach the massive man again. "Hey, Check!" Terry leaned over the ring ropes and held out his hand. "I wanna have a go at 'im! Tag me in!"

The knight gave an affirming nod and reverted to King mode, tagging in Terry who was ready to go hog wild. The ol' cowpoke wasted no time. He moved in a blur, the agility and fleet-footedness of his bloodline shining through, and whizzed right past Bighorn, leaping to the top of the ring ropes and setting the Bloody Arms bruiser up for a nasty Calf Branding.

"That won't work, cowboy..!" El Matador called to him in a semi-taunt. As if his boss's statement was the cue, Bighorn smacked his sweaty palms to the canvas as the Kid sent him down, and in one fluid motion, launched himself from his handstand and flipped so that the Texan was underneath him, crushing and pinning the American Chôjin to the mat. 

The fact that the Kid was in trouble was as plain as day, so Checkmate took it upon himself to lend a hand. The king vaulted over the cordage and raced toward Bighorn, ready to lay the hurt on him. Before he had the chance, however, the horned hombre sprung up and away from Terry's approaching ally, letting his body fall front first to the mat. Then, Hoffman entered the ring and took his partner by the legs. 

"Ready?"

"Mad Thresher!"

In a derivative of a Giant Swing, Hoffman took his partner's legs in the crooks of his arms and swung him 'round and 'round, the other man tucking his head so that the sharp edge of his horn would face just so. Not much room to escape nor time to act, Terry and Check took off in opposite directions. It would be too late for the Kid, it seemed. As he tried to flee, Bighorn's knife-like edge sliced into the side of his thigh and he fell over, blood pouring from the wound. Checkmate, too, was far from being out of the woods. When the timing was right, the hound launched his teammate on a non-stop flight to slice into the king, whose body was half over the ring ropes and in no position to make a fast way out of it. With a bit of quick thinking, the red-clad wrestler pressed the button on his castle shoulder piece and morphed to Rook form, using his Body Separate technique just as the muscle-bound menace came within inches of taking a stab at him, literally. Bighorn sailed right through the newly made gap and right over the edge of the ring, crashing horn first to the floor. 

The spectators of the Muscle League gave each other high-fives, while Matador only raked his arm, slightly annoyed that the horse and rider combination had managed to best his best men, not once, but twice. He supposed it mattered little if his wrestlers came out on top in the end. "Bighorn!" The boss man called. "You're still tagged in! Get back in the ring!!"

"Urrg… Right!" Bighorn leapt back to the ring as easily as he'd fallen from it, Hoffman taking his place behind the ropes upon his partner's return.

"How art thee, Terry?" Checkmate wandered over to the Texan. 

"I'm fine. I can manage." The Kid slowly returned to his feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me," he cracked his knuckles. "I gots me a match t' win..!" Checkmate nodded and took his leave, switching back over to King once outside the ring. "Ready to go again, feller?" Terry addressed the Bloody Arms bruiser.

"Ha! This time I'll give you more than just a little cut on your leg, you… eh..?"

He'd noticed a few specs were falling in front of his face. Was something crumbling above him? He looked up. The ceiling was intact, no reason for it to be otherwise. Then, it occurred to him: He'd fallen on his horn. _But, of course, it couldn't be **that**…_ Bighorn chuckled to himself. Still, he put a finger to the side of the impact point just as a test… 

The thing practically crumbled to pieces on the mat by that one little touch. He'd landed on the front of his horn with its knife-like edge, it's constitution already weakened by its fine sharpening. One little contact and the thing shattered like a dropped vase. 

"Bighorn, what's wrong? Why aren't you fighting?" Ol' dogface inquired. The green one quivered for a bit, then turned to Hoffman, tears gathering in his eyes. 

"My… My horn broke!!"

Hoffman slapped his forehead in disbelief. "I told you not to give it such a fine edge! Just forget about it and get back to the match! Our master is watching!"

"I can't..! I feel so ugly!"

"Grrar… Then I'll join you!" Hoffman turned to his master. "_Mein Führer! _Please allow the duration of this match to be 2-on-2!"

El Matador shrugged. "Do what you want."

_"Danke!_" The Blood Arms hound joined Bighorn in the ring. This now officially a 2-on-2 match, the king leapt beside Terry. "Let us put an end to this." Checkmate activated both shoulder pieces for the Grand Slam.

"Sure as shootin', Check. I'm dyin' t' go back an' see my dad."

"I'll send you to your father in Heaven, boy!" Hoffman came at him, fangs bared, shoulders stacked, and ready to deliver some pain. 

"You ready fer some action, Check?"

"I'm ready to win!"

"Alright!!" Terry raced to meet their dog-faced opponent, the notion of victory driving his charge. Hoffman opened his arms for a grapple, just as the Kid anticipated. Instead of meeting him for resistance, Terry leapt and caught Hoffman's left arm, and with the hound off balance, swung him around then hurled him to Checkmate. "Now!"

The other man nodded, brining his back to face the Bloody Arms bloodhound and gave him a good horse kick skyward, launching Hoffman into the air. With that, Check jumped high above him, setting up his signature move. 

"Pile Driver Stallion Style!!"

And with a great rumbling, Hoffman was done, his body driven into the canvas. One down, one to go. Bighorn didn't look to be in any condition to finish this, still grieving over the loss of his horn. Whatever. The less resistance, the better for them. This time, Checkmate was the one to set it off, heaving Bighorn over his stone-cold chest and upward. "Sir Kenyan!"

"Gotcha!" Terry hopped atop the ring ropes and catapulted himself to the beast. A knee behind the head, and go! 

"Calf Branding!!"

BAMM--!! The Texas tornado sent that Bighorn's head sinking into the mat like an ostrich with its own in the sand. A ding of the bell, and their match was over. Terry the Kid and Checkmate had managed to best the Animal All-Stars of the Bloody Arms organization, and thus, the final battle was half-won. Mantaro and Seiuchin threw their cheers and congrats out to the victors, and Matador applauded sarcastically. 

"Congratulations, Kid, Checkmate…" He began. "The wheel of fortune is turning in your favor, it seems."

"Enough o' that!" Terry said. "You're next up for a heap o' hurtin'!" The man in red smirked. "Is that so?"

El Matador turned his attention to his fallen fighters in the ring, and so, hopped in to see the full extent of their injuries. First, Bighorn. Matador took him by what hair he had and pulled his head out from the mat, turning over his body to face him. "Sir…" The hornless beast choked.

"You really disappointed me today," the boss man began. "I have a question for you: What is Bighorn without his big horn?"

"I… I don't know, sir…"

"I'll tell you what he is: Nothing, and that which becomes nothing no longer exists…" He pulled out his gun and turned Bighorn over again, putting the weapon to the back of his head. "Goodbye, Nothing…"

The others jumped at the blast of the gunshot. He sent a bullet through his head, that Matador, took his life execution-style without a second thought and painted the canvas red with his blood. He carried his still smoking gun over to Hoffman, who hadn't moved an inch since enduring Checkmate's signature move in his Grand Slam form. "_Mein Führer_…" He managed to smile despite his pitiful state.

"How are you feeling, Hoffman..?" Matador knelt to meet his dog.

"I… I can't feel my legs… I can't move my arms…"

He didn't seem surprised. The boss man returned to stand over the injured mutt. "Hoffman… Do you remember why I asked you to join Bloody Arms?"

"Because you believed I was strong."

"And can you tell me why you were so devoted to Bloody Arms?"

"…Because I believed in you…"

Matador turned his head and chuckled at Hoffman's words. "That's a stupid reason, and exactly what a dog would say…" He lifted his gun-wielding arm and pointed the weapon straight at his forehead. "Repeat after me, Hoffman: The only good dog…"

"The only good dog…"

"…is a dead dog."

A tear ran down Hoffman's cheek as he choked out the last of the sentence. "……is a dead dog …"

BLAM-!! "Again!!"

"The only…good dog… is a dead… dog…"

BLAM-!! "Again!!"

"The only…"

BLAM-!! "I can't hear you, Hoffman!!" BLAM-!! "What's the only--" BLAM-!! "kind of--" BLAM-!! "good dog?"

He grinned as he watched his dog's face become seeped in blood and brain matter. "Good boy, Hoffman."

Matador returned the gun to its holster and came down from the ring to meet with the New Gens. "So, ready for the next match?"

"You……" Seiuchin growled in a quiet rage. "'Evil' doesn't even begin to describe you! Killing your own men who thought the world of you!? Even if they killed our friends, they… no one deserves deaths like those!" 

El Matador had to throw his head back and laugh at that one. "You Muscle Leaguers are all the same. You go out with a chivalrous air, thinking you can save everybody, even going as far as defending your enemies! You don't know what you want! But I know what I want… Even if those morons lost, I'll be the one to come out on top in the end! Your pig-faced Mantaro doesn't have a prayer..!"

"Maybe…" Mantaro said, bearing the most solemn expression he'd ever worn. "But I have people waiting back home for me, and a friend who needs a funeral…  Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't plan on dying here."

The bull slayer squared his hands on his hips and smirked. "Don't forget. It's only you now, prince. How this era ends or continues is entirely on your shoulders."

"I won't, just like I'll never forget Gazelle's last words or the tears in Blocken, Jr.'s eyes…" The muscle prince clenched his fists. "…And I won't forget the look on your face when you lose!!"

"We shall see. Come along, now..."

  



	13. A Good and Righteous Chojin

****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi 

Chapter 13: "A Good and Righteous Chôjin"

___________________________________________________

****

****

Everyone you know will die.

Everyone you love will die.

There are no exceptions.

This is fate.

"Your victory or your defeat will determine how this new era comes about. Will you have a happy time of peace and goodwill as the Chôjin of the Muscle League, or will we of Bloody Arms find our own happiness in the slaying of the Legend above all Legends, the old Kinnikuman?"

"Can you say all that without any teeth?"

"Well, I see **someone's** ready to fight…"

"Shut up and let's get started."

_________________________________________

He had taken them all, those wrestlers of the New Generation, to the generator room--a hot, noisy space full of metal and wires and gears--and displayed to them proudly his 'Steps to Happiness': three rings overlapping to resemble steps. The top most ring had a plain, white canvas mat: Heaven. The one below it was of concrete: Earth; and the one below that, a heated, steel ring that could burn the skin of whatever poor fool let himself be pinned to it: Hell. El Matador proclaimed when they'd first arrived that he'd be taking on Mantaro and only Mantaro, the son of the legendary Kinnikuman. They had placed all their hope and trust in the muscle prince, the only one left to save the day. Somehow or another, in every match, he always came through in the end… 

"Weren't you going to knock my teeth out?" Matador inquired, clutching the young Kinniku in a sleeper hold. "Where's all your talk now, prince?" 

The prince growled in response and continued struggling to break free of his enemy's hold.

This was the same guy, right..? That same young man who pulled those miraculous wins against the dMp and Generation-EX? Against Fork and Hanzou and Bone Cold? If Mantaro was that same young man, then why was he losing..? El Matador was the top dog of Bloody Arms, so to speak, and as they could painfully see, it was a well-deserved position. Every submission he escaped, every grapple he broke out of, every punch and kick he evaded, it demonstrated to them the amount of skill he had… and every successful one of those he threw at Mantaro showed to them his awesome Chôjin power…

He finally managed to break out, that Mantaro, by jerking his head back to hit the opponent's mouth. Matador instinctively retracted, brining his hands there to sooth the pain. The villain recovered quickly and continued with a clothesline, to which Mantaro ducked artfully, then countered with a back flip atop his opponent's shoulders, locking his legs around his neck. The imbalance in weight caused Matador to topple over and fall face-flat to the mat. The young Kinniku stomped on his back and wrenched the red rogue's arms behind him. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't prevent the bull slayer from using his legs. Even with the prince's additional weight, he managed to curve his back enough to lock his legs around the wrestling royalty's waist from behind. Mantaro dropped his grip on Matador's arms, which, in turn, gave Matador the opportunity to perform his desired move. He swung his legs over his head, performing a handstand, then let his legs fall forward and smashed his opponent's head into the mat, a sort of reverse suplex of the legs. Despite his pain, the prince was thankful that they were on traditional canvas, or else that could have been a nasty drop for him. 

They began again, charging each other and locking arms like in the wrestling of yesterday. Mantaro hopped and swung his knee upward, clocking Matador in the jaw. The fiend released his grips and once again brought his hand to the point of injury. It was in the bag now. The opportunity having arisen, the muscle prince rushed the villain, tackling him over the ropes and sending them both to the concrete ring below, El Matador taking the full force of the fall on his back. The young Kinniku hurriedly ran to the ropes before his foe could get to his feet. He hopped on the top cordage and leapt to execute a body press. Unfortunately for his, the villain recovered in record time.

"Try this!" The bull slayer threw his cape at Mantaro, wrapping itself around his face.

"Hey!" The wrestling royalty ripped the article from his mug. "What the..?"

Mantaro looked around in utter confusion. When he removed the cloak, his eyes saw not the three-step rings, but a dusty arena, filled to capacity with cheering spectators. "Matador!" He yelled. "Show yourself! Where are you!?"

_____________________________

"Mantaro!! Mantaro!!

"Young Muscle! Why dost thou wander?"

"Bro, what's wrong? He's right behind you!" 

They watched as the muscle prince roamed around the ring, looking for everything where there was nothing. "Sorry, boys, but he can't hear you. He's not with us at the moment. Time to begin the assault!"

_____________________________

He heard a creaking behind him. The prince turned to find two large, wooden double doors opening, and out clambered a huge, red bull, stamping and snorting, the hoop ring in its nose glinting in the light. "Oh, wow… Just think of all the beef bowls I could make with that guy..!"

As if the bull had heard him and understood, it charged to Mantaro, head kept low, dual horns sharp and ready to stick it to him, literally. The wrestling royalty jumped out of the way, but the bull merely circled and came at him again, catching the Chôjin in the back and tossing him face first into the dirt. Mantaro coughed a bit, ignoring the painful gash in his back and rolled onto it, but where was the bull? A riley snort brought his attention skyward. The thing was high above him and closing in fast, intending to smash the poor prince into the ground. Mantaro tried to scramble away, but it wouldn't be of any use. The creature caught him at the shoulder and flattened his body in the dirt. Suddenly, the young Kinniku felt a hot sensation where the bull was standing on him. It soon grew to an unbearable burning. He felt like he was on fire… 

_______________________________________

Terry, Seiuchin, and Checkmate could only look on as their teammate cried out in excruciating pain. El Matador, that fiend, had taken their Mantaro and tossed him into the Hell ring, pinning the whole front of his body to it. They could smell his mask beginning to burn, the stink of smoldering leather unmistakable in their nostrils. "That's it, prince! Burn! Burn alive!!" Matador laughed with an insane glee.

"Mantaro! Mantaro! Snap out of it!" Seiuchin called to him.

"Weren't you listening the first time?" The villain addressed him. "No matter how loudly you shout, you won't shake him from my cape's illusion!"

"Stupid…"

"Huh..?"

_____________________________

"Stupid bull…" His hair began to flow.

The bovine slammed a hoof, but the flames inside him grew even stronger. "Everyone's… counting on me…" What was that on his forehead? "I don't have time for you…"

Mantaro planted his hands on the ground and pushed his body up. The bull seemed almost surprised as it felt itself moving upward. The prince managed to free his legs and quickly pulled himself from under the giant steer. Then, in a lightning fast motion, he turned and grabbed the thing by the horns.

"I don't have time!!"

_______________________________

The blue aura, the legendary mark… Mantaro had achieved the power of Ultimate Muscle, and not a moment too soon. He had El Matador by the shoulders, his veins pulsing, his muscles bulging. Then in a mighty feat of strength, chucked the Bloody Arms boss upward and forward.

"Invert Kinniku Buster!"

His can hit the concrete, and his target took all its force.. With Matador's outcry disappeared the hallucination. The muscle prince blinked. "Hey… I'm back in the ring…" He looked over his shoulder to find his bull hand become his foe once again, laying beside him on the hard surface.

"You never left, 'Taro!" Terry cried. "Watch out fer that cape o' his! If you let it get around yer face, you'll end up hallucinatin' again!"

_So that's what it was…_ Mantaro stood and raised his hand to his Texan friend. "Don't worry, Terry! I won't be fooled by the same move twice!"

"Ugh…" Matador slowly sat up from the last assault, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fool… I won't be beaten by you..!" 

He took off like the devil himself, coming at the prince with arms outstretched. Without warning, Mantaro spun around and caught Matador with a clothesline, sending him right back to the concrete. The villain coughed and sputtered a bit under the muscle prince, the legendary mark still present on his brow. Growling, he quickly got back to his feet to try again, rushing to the other side of the ring for his cloak.

Then, in a strange move, he kept his back to Mantaro instead of following up.

"You'd turn your back to me now..!?" The wrestling royalty became a bit irate at that and this time came to his opponent. 

"Payback!!" In an echo of Mantaro's last move, El Matador whipped his body around, too, but this surprise would be more unpleasant that a clothesline…

He stopped short of getting his throat slit, that young Kinniku. The arm he concealed with his brilliant red cloak had become a fencer's sword..! Matador continued his assault, bringing all the parries and thrusts he could muster as his target clumsily evaded them as best he could. Of course, the point came when there was no more space to run. He had chased him up to the edge of the Heaven ring, that villain, Matador, and the only way out was a straight drop down. "Ha ha ha! Kinniku Mantaro," the red-clad rogue began. "How does it feel? You're about to be skewered by the greatest Devil Chôjin alive!"

Mantaro smirked. "That's saying a lot for someone who's about to lose..."

"Is that so? Well then, take this!" El Matador thrust out his sword arm, confident that his next attack would be the one to signal the beginning of the prince's end. Imaging his surprise when Mantaro caught his arm and pulled it forward, tangling it within the ring ropes..!

"This is it, Matador!" Mantaro gathered all his strength for what would be the attack to end this match. 

"No, you don't! You should have restrained both my hands!"

In a move that none of them could have ever expected, El Matador took out his gun with his free hand and fired on Mantaro, his bullets piercing whatever parts of his body they could. That poor prince, he took one in the arm, one in the shoulder, another below the rib cage, and one in the knee cap. Mantaro toppled over, crashing to the canvas, his already heat-damaged clothing now soiled with blood. 

His friends' blood ran could, their hearts skipped a beat. Was he alive? Was he dead? They began to scramble to the Heaven ring, dreading the sight of their powerful ally. "Stay back!" El Matador shouted just as they entered the concrete ring. "Come any closer and I'll put a bullet through his brain!" The three stayed completely still. "There was no way I'd be humiliated in my own place!!" The villain screamed, finally wrenching his arm free from the cordage. "This match is over and I am the victor!"

"You call this a match!?" Terry berated him. "You… Your worse than any member of the dMp..! At least they don't rely on guns to win!"

"Thou hast sullied the entire concept of Chôjin wrestling..!" Checkmate joined in.

"Checkmate, shut the hell up." Matador walked closer to the ring's edge, closer to Mantaro. "This piece of trash at my feet is still alive, but not for much longer. Before I off him, I'll answer your question from before, Checkmate." His expression turned to an ugly sneer. "Look at yourself, hanging around the Muscle League, the Justice Chôjin… You used to be ruthless, a pillar of strength in the dMp, unmatched in the hatred of your foes. But you were beaten down by that pig-faced Mantaro, and now look. Instead of getting revenge like a Devil Chôjin should, you play around all day with these Muscle League morons..! **You **brought Sunshine's death upon him! He suffered because of your stupidity!"

Everything stopped for Checkmate at that point. It was as though he was having trouble processing the statement. The chess set wrestler clenched his fist and bowed his head, his rage steadily growing. "……Because of my stupidity..? That isn't good enough…" It came out barely above a whisper.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a new era to start." Matador brought his gun to Mantaro's temple, finger on the trigger. The prince looked to him with half-lidded eyes, not seeming to realize the situation. His friends, however, could only watch the scene unfold, horrified. After all this, all their struggle, Mantaro was going to die like a damned dog…

"Goodbye, prince!!"

Click.

Click, click.

A look of total dread washed over the villain's face. "…I'm out of bullets… I… I'm out of bullets…"

"Master Sunshine had to die for that…? You animal…" His entire body quivered with anger as he abandoned his usual speech a second time. "It's a stupid reason… How dare you do that to him… HOW DARE YOU!!"

In a blind rage, Checkmate leapt to the canvas ring where El Matador was stationed and gave him a swift kick to the jaw, sending the rogue onto his back and the gun flying from his hand. That being not nearly enough, the chessmaster hoisted the murderous scum over his head and threw him at one of the generators across the room, charging to hold him against the metal cylinder as the electricity from it zapped them both

"Checkmate!!" Both the Kid and Seiuchin cried, but their cries were muffled by the small explosions that had begun from the other generators. The machines were beginning to short, and with their megalithic size, could easily take out the entire ship, and with the way things were going now, that was closer and closer to becoming a reality. 

"..What… What are you doing..!?" Matador managed to growl in spite of his electrocution. "With the power flow disrupted like this, you'll make the entire ship blow..!"

"Then so be it." Quickly, Checkmate raised a hand towards the topmost ring and opened a portal. "Take young Muscle and go! Go now!" He shouted to his allies as loud as he could.

"But, Check," Seiuchin called. "What about you?!" 

"I'll be along! Make haste now and escape!"

Reluctantly, Terry and Seiuchin scooped up their wounded and slipped through the black space. There. Everyone was safe now. He had nothing left to worry about. "Checkmate!!" El Matador growled once more. "You'll kill us both if you keep me pinned here!! Let go!"

The chess set wrestler simply ignored him. The generator to the left of him finally blew, flames and smoke and metal shrapnel went every which way, some hitting his body, but he kept at it, still holding tight to Matador. There went the second… 

_I'm going to die here, but somehow, I'm happy. Gazelle, is this what you meant when you talked with me that night..? Me, a good and righteous Chôjin… _He allowed himself a dubious little smile._ Master Sunshine would roll in his grave…_

No one would hear the explosion of the Bloody Arms space base. No one would hear the crackle of electricity, the ripping of the hull, the roar of the flames, the anguished cries of its men, and perhaps, it was better that way.


	14. Good Men Will Go

****

In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 14: "Good Men Will Go" 

___________________________________________________  
  


"This is kind of awkward."  
  
"I know. I'm not sure how to feel, either."  
  
"Should we say something?"  
  
"No. I think we should wait until he's done."  
  
Blocken, Jr. laid the bouquet at his student's headstone, his mouth a rigid, straight line, and without a word, he rose-- slowly but surely-- and turned to approach the Gen-EXers. They both stood before their fallen ally's grave.  
  
"Um…" Dead Signal rubbed the back of his wire pole neck. "Jade, I can't believe you're gone. It doesn't seem real, you know? Anyway, I'm real glad that you were a part of our class. …I don't really know what else to say…"  
  
"Jade," Crione got down on bended knee. "There's really a lot I want to say but…I just don't know how… so… thank you for everything. We'll miss you."  
  
When they turned around, Blocken was already headed back down the path to the cemetery gate. The Gen-EXers trotted to catch up to him. "Master Blocken, please don't run off," said Signal. "We'll have to return to Hercules soon."  
  
"I don't have to be reminded," the old man snapped suddenly. He took a seat on a marble bench positioned beside the path and sighed, burying his face in his hands.  
  
"Um… You did a wonderful job with Jade, Master Blocken…" Crione Man began. "He was a great wrestler. He really made our class shine… and well, taught me a little about the power of friendship. When Hercules is back together, when you're feeling better… do you think… you could educate us on it?"  
  
Blocken looked up at him, tears of mourning shimmering in his eyes. The old man pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes and snorted. "You picked a fine time to be making requests…" He said sarcastically.  
  
Crione looked a little downcast at that. "I'm sorry…"  
  
"…But I suppose friends of my boy can't be all that bad, eh?"   
  
"He seemed to like us well enough," quipped Signal.  
  
"…… A Justice Chôjin's power is the power of friendship. You won't reach your full potential without it. That's your first lesson. When Hercules is back together, when we're all feeling better, I'll educate you two on the power of friendship. I think Jade would like that."  
  
They bowed to him. "Thank you, Master Blocken."  
  
______________________________________________________  
  
   
  
Soldier surveyed the area and shook his head. "It's really a shame all this had to happen…"  
  
"I know, but it's all over now. All we can do is clean up and continue with our lives."  
  
"It'll be difficult with only a handful of instructors…"  
  
"We'll make do. It's not like we have that many students anymore, anyway…"  
  
King Suguru and brother, Ataru, looked as the bulldozers gathered the rubble in piles of their years-old school. Most of their friends had died in the Bloody Arms assault: Curry Cook, Geronimo, Jesse Mavia, Rikishi Man, Buffalo Man… It would be only him and the other survivors now: Ramen Man, Robin Mask, and old Blocken, Jr.. Ataru --otherwise, Kinnikuman Soldier-- agreed to join them as soon as he heard the news. They'd have to talk with Terryman to see if he could come out to help, as well. In any case, it would be a while before they could begin again with the education of Justice Chôjin.  
  
Kevin stood on the cliffs at Hercules' edge, his trench coat flowing in the dry, stale wind. It had been two weeks since the invasion of the Factory and his father had recovered nicely. It was time for him to be getting along, too.  
  
"Kevin…"  
  
He turned around. A pair of red eyes and a familiar blue mask looked back at him in the form of his patriarch. "Are you leaving?"  
  
"Yes," he replied, turning his attention to the stars. "I'm going back to Earth shortly."  
  
"Hm. Kevin, I'd like you to stay and help out here at the Factory."  
  
The young Englishman turned around. "You've got a lot of skill and talent," Robin continued. "It would do us a great deal of service if you'd stay and help out with the new students."  
  
"…Sorry, old man, but I'm no assistant teacher," Kevin chuckled dryly. "I've seen enough of this place already, and the sooner I leave, the better."  
  
Robin Mask shrugged, seeming to expect that sort of answer. "Then I won't stop you. You're a grown man, so go and do what you want. But Kevin… You're still my son and… I love you. Thank you." Robin extended his hand.  
  
Kevin looked down at his father's hand, then looked back at him. "Old man, I looked out for you then, but it doesn't change a thing between us. The next time we meet, it'll be in the ring."  
  
"I wouldn't have it any other way."  
  
"Alright, then. Until we meet again..." They shook hands and went their separate ways.  
  
_______________________________  
  
   
  
"I don't cry so much anymore, thanks to you. You helped me to grow up a bit, I think. …I'll always be a bit of a coward, but even in the face of death, I'll keep a straight face, because that's what you did, because that's what Justice Chôjin do. So…" He removed the lid from the urn. "Godspeed, Gazelle Man, back to the city you once protected…"  
  
They spread his ashes over the city from high at Tokyo Tower, that fallen friend of theirs, the late Gazelle. Mantaro had made sure to hold a huge funeral march on his home planet. All of his subjects would know of his feat, everyone would know the name 'Gazelle Man'. They had him cremated and his remains scattered to the winds blowing through that overcrowded city, Tokyo. Meat and Mantaro kept their faces straight, while Terry took off his hat and placed it over his heart. Seiuchin covered his eyes and sobbed quietly, letting out all the tears that he didn't have time to shed those two weeks ago.  
  
"Come on, you guys," said Meat. "We should go."  
  
"Yeah…" Seiuchin sniffled and wiped his muzzle, following Meat to the elevator, Terry the Kid behind the both of them.  
  
"You comin', Mantaro..?" Terry inquired, nestling his Stetson atop his cranium.  
  
"I'll meet up with you guys later. I still have something else to do."  
  
____________________________________  
  
He took the shuttle to the area they all played in before all the tragedy that Bloody Arms brought them, that field where they played a game of football and horse around as young men do. Tucked under his arm was a standard-sized pigskin, a new one he'd purchased just for this. Mantaro walked through the field a little ways. It was a blustery day, the wind tossing about the tuft of hair sticking out of his mask. The muscle prince plopped down in the grassy venue. He took from his back pocket a permanent marker and began to scrawl all over the football. Then, he set the ball down and returned to his feet, leaving the field as though he'd never been there to begin with. He stopped suddenly, looking over his shoulder, then up to the clouds overhead. There wouldn't be any stray spear fists, he was sure, and so, continued on his way.  
  
_To Checkmate:_  
  
_It's been two weeks since we last saw you at the Bloody Arms space base. You're probably dead if you haven't returned by now, but somehow, I want to believe you escaped and are alive somewhere. I wanted to ask you if you'd join Muscle League. Though, I wouldn't care if you stayed dMp out of respect for Sunshine-- you'd be my friend in any case. If you're out their somewhere, if you happen to come back to this place, bring this ball back with you. We'll play a game of football again. And if you're not, well, please give Gazelle, Jade, and Sunshine my regards. I'll never forget Blocken's tears, I'll never forget Gazelle's last words, and I will never forget what you did for us. Even in death, I won't ever forget you.  
  
_ _Love,_  
_ Kinniku Mantaro_  
  
He heard a 'thud' come from behind him. Mantaro turned around and gasped. There was a black portal in the sky..! He ran as fast as his feet could carry him back to the place where he'd set the football, his eyes full of hope, his heart pounding in anticipation. And there he was, the castle and the horse's head towering on either shoulder, the familiar checkered cape, though burned to half its original length. "Checkmate…" He wanted to shout, but his voice could only managed a choked whisper.   
  
The chess set wrestler knelt before the pigskin, his eyes darting to read Mantaro's message. He scooped the ball under his arm and turned to head for the IWF headquarters, stopping short upon seeing Mantaro. "Young Muscle…" He smiled.  
  
"Checkmate…" Mantaro's face lit up, and he ran to meet his friend. Suddenly, his smile dropped. "Oh… Checkmate……"  
  
His right arm… there was nothing below the shoulder… The man in tattered clothing cocked his head. "Do not look at me so, Mantaro. 'Tis only an arm I lost. Please excuse my late return, but needless to say, I've been away recovering. Now, might we fetch the others and have at a game of football?"  
  
"…Yeah… Let's go get the guys… They're gonna be… so happy…" Mantaro took the pigskin and met the chess set wrestler in an embrace, Checkmate returning it with his remaining arm. After all their struggles, their sadness, they could finally go back to being something more than Chôjin wrestlers, they could go back to being young men, young men with brave hearts. They had transcended space and time, fighting all the while so that they may have back their fun times, so that there wouldn't be any more tears. The actions they took were not performed because they were what good Chôjin did, but because they were what good men did…   
  
Good men will do good deeds.  
  
Good men will go far.   



End file.
